Texas Rising
by OperationCrossroads
Summary: Hidden from the rest of the world since the war, one fleet struggles to save themselves. Separated, one battleship must break through the Abyssal hordes to free them or die trying.
1. Prologue

The war has been hard on all of us. The brunt of the fighting had been burdened by the US Navy. From the beginning, its ships fought valiantly against an overwhelming enemy. Now, there were less than a hundred ships left. The first ships to go were Nimitz and Ford, defenseless as they sat in Norfolk. With the commissioning of Enterprise later that month, the hole left by the sinking of those two ships lessened. Now,there are only three carriers left in the world. They sit, tied up at a pier, in the only ocean big enough to lose a carrier, that is if the enemy was a conventional force. The only hope for the world lay in the destroyers that were still in action, but that changed overnight. Five months ago, the Japanese debuted what they called kanmusu, they claimed they were ships given human form. Soon after, many countries were summoning ships from their pasts. The United States was the last of the major navies to be successful, their long term failure solved by modifying the summoning process. It seemed that the war had turned for the better.

Date: 5 March, 2016

Time: 10:00 Pacific Standard Time

Location: Naval Air Station Alameda

Enterprise stared out into the ocean, somewhere,out there,her sisters lay. All three of them sank defending their country, and all three distinguished themselves in the beginning years. It only seemed fitting for the Navy to continue their tradition, giving their names to brand new ships. In this way, Yorktown, Hornet, and Wasp would always be remembered; not because of their heroics, but because of the lineage they produced. Now, Enterprise had another war to win. As the one of the first carriers to return, she was in high demand. Her experience now kept her in the classroom teaching Essexes and escort carriers. It was ironic, however, that she taught onboard herself. The latest Enterprise, CVN-80, sat tied up at the pier, hanger bay and reactors empty. She had no purpose in the war, her class was too vulnerable to Abyssal attacks. It was only a matter of time before she too would be sunk, just like Victory and Constitution, another great ship reduced to scrap. Soon, she would fight again, Enterprise felt it. But would the Navy even allow their most decorated carrier a chance? That was a question that none of her friends knew.

"Yo, E," a voice called. Enterprise knew who it was.

"What do you want, Dragon?", she asked.

"Me and some of the Standards were having a poker game tonight. Wanted to see if you would join."

"Jersey, you know I would clean all of you out the minute I walked in. Go and ask Lexington, heard she just put in from Corpus Christi. Seems like she would need something to get her mind off of CV-16."

"You know as well as I do that Lex can't play cards even if her life depended on it."

Enterprise smiled at that. "So, how's Iowa holding up? Last thing I heard, her deck had been completely replaced."

"She's looking good these days. The war has really been a help to her upkeep. Apparently, the museum staff is restoring Turret One to working condition."

"That seems nice, although she wouldn't like another turret blown out from her hull. Turret Two should be still fresh in her memory." A small noise came from behind Enterprise.

"Shit, is that the time? Sorry, E. I promised Cali I would help with turret recalibrations today. Nice chatting with you." And Enterprise was alone once again.


	2. The Beginning

Alone, she was alone once more. Once, she had a crew, a fleet, and an Admiral who had called her flagship. Now, all that was gone, replaced with blackness. It had been three years since the Abyssal War started, three years of defending her fleetmates and base. She fought bravely, a battleship giving up her life for her country. Then, the Abyssals ripped her from everything she knew. No longer would delight fill her body as waves splashed against her bow. No longer would she fire her guns in anger at an enemy. The only cruelty done now was the fact that she survived. Her hull continued to operate with the same tenacity as ever. She was certain even Renegade wouldn't be able to see that her flagship had no soul. If only she could fight again, make her country proud once more. If they even knew her fleet existed. Something grabbed at her consciousness, a familiar tug. Perhaps this was the chance she was looking for! No matter what happens next, she would fight. She would make her name become known! No longer would she lurk in the shadows! Her rifles would thunder, signalling death to all those who oppose her. Forget going into harm's way, she _was_ harm's way and for that the Lone Star will make the world never forget her actions. Her boilers roared into existence, casting the blackness away. Her anger forging gun and armor plate. She began her assault on the light, charging in headlong. Never again shall her country be defenseless, for she shall fight in its name!

Date: 25 January, 2017

Time: 13:00 Eastern Time

Location: Naval Station Annapolis

The band burst into song after the Admiral's speech. Captain Perry looked around at his new command. It had been a long year restoring her to operation. Now, she was crewed by the nation's finest. Soon, the world would hear the sound of her guns once more. The long awaited return of the battleship was here at last. Perry stood and walked onto the stage.

"There are many things that define the United States," he said, "Freedom, Liberty, Justice. These are words that say who we are to the rest of the world. But, there are some which aren't known. Dedication, Perseverance ,and Determination; these qualities have been most apparent in this war. The fact that we are still fighting today shows this. This battleship we stand on today was forged by men and women who were determined to get revenge on Japan for Pearl Harbor. Now, it's Japan who needs us most. This nation will not stop fighting until the war is over, this is a fact made clear by the servicemen and women who have gone before us. We will go out and fight for those who can't, for those who are weakening, and those who need our help the most. It is our mission. And it is one that shall continue well after this great ship, USS Wisconsin, is forgotten. So, I implore the crew, never give up, keep fighting. The Abyssals will be defeated, and I hope this ship, and her crew, will be there triumphant."

The hum of machinery filled the air, lights inside the ship flickered on, devices coming to life for the first time in decades. The large guns of Turret One slowly elevated, and the mount swung over to starboard. One by one, spouts of flame and white smoke spat out from their muzzles. Their thunder rolling over the city. Applause rang out from the gathered crowd, applause that soon died in awe. There, floating in the harbor not 1000 feet from the old Iowa, stood a woman dressed in white. On her head sat a white cowboy hat with a black brim and gold trimmings. The rest of her clothing was a standard US Navy dress uniform. One her feet were white cowboy boots with golden spurs. Six large turrets, two mounted on arms rising up from her back, the other four on two hull like projections, arrayed around her. To Perry, her weapons gave the air of a bird-of-prey, the top turrets and arms forming the wings, and the two bow halves, talons outstretched. There was no movement besides her maroon hair blowing in the breeze. After a moment, grey tampions slid off of her guns, revealing the shimmering gold beneath. Her turrets rotated, guns pointing at the battleship. With a roar, the guns went off. A perfect gun salute. As the smoke cleared, the turrets turned back to their original positions, no gold in sight. Suddenly, a voice spoke from behind Perry.

"She's one of ours. Although her lines aren't in my books."

Perry turned to face the speaker. A tall woman with blond hair stood there, her name tag simply said New Jersey.

"I'm glad I could make it,Captain. Whisky has a fine crew not to mention a commander who knows his ship better than himself," she said.

"Lieutenant, shouldn't you do something about the new arrival.", asked the Admiral.

"On it,sir," she replied as she turned and pushed through the mass of people behind her. As Jersey reached the dock, the foreign vessel had glided over to the docks and was pulling herself onto dry land.

"Excuse me, who are you? I need a name, and hull code. Uh.. Uh.. Ma'am," Jersey stuttered as the woman turned around. On her shoulder boards, five gold stars were displayed. She looked up at the woman's face, her blue eyes boring into Jersey's skull.

"I hope that's not the way my Navy acts these days. No wonder you're losing this war," she said, " Seems like you could use my help. Battleship USS Texas, BBX-1 reporting for duty!"

"Ma'am, I have no records of a BBX-1. I could lo-"

"That's because all files pertaining to my operations were sealed by President Truman himself."

" Well, M'am. I welcome you into the fleet on behalf of Admiral Dougherty, Pacific Command."

Just then the Admiral walked up. "Welcome back, I'm Admiral Ross, head of Atlant-"

"Spare me the pleasantries, Admiral," Texas stated.

"Do you know who you are talki-",Ross replied

"Zip it Ross, we don't have much time."

Jersey looked over at the Admiral's face, which was growing redder every second.

"I can't believe the nerve-"

"Didn't you hear me, Admiral," Texas stated, "Shut the trap, or is it now custom to disregard a superior's orders?" Ross glanced at her ranks and his face quickly drained. "S-S-Sorry, Ma'am. My apologies," he stuttered.

"Apology accepted. Let's get down to business."


	3. Down To Business

Date: 27 January, 2017

Time: 15:00 Local Time

Location: Naval Base Coronado, San Diego, California

USS California was growing impatient. The transport was supposed to land 2 hours ago. She had sent Indianapolis up to the tower to see what went wrong. Just as she decided to wait inside, a dull drone was heard. California looked to the tarmac as a C-17, engines smoking, touched down with a screech.

"They lost two engines in flight," Indianapolis said as she walked up.

"Is everything prepared for her arrival?", California asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. I made it clear to Alaska that Texas' room should be to Navy standards," Indianapolis replied.

"Excellent, inform the rest of the fleet to be pressed and polished by the time we get to the barracks."

"Yes, Ma'am." A jeep pulled up alongside them, and the battleship climbed inside leaving the cruiser to her duties.  
Out on the tarmac, Texas was supervising the unloading of a very large crate out of the C-17. On the side was stenciled: "Property of US Navy". She turned around just as the jeep pulled up. Out stepped a person. She was solidly built with light brown hair wrapped in a tight bun. The name tag on her khakis read California, Texas assumed it meant the battleship.

She walked up and gave the Fleet Admiral a crisp salute, "Ma'am, I am USS California. Welcome to San Diego."

"Pleasure to be here, Cali. Send off the buggy, we won't be needing it,"Texas replied.

"I've made preparations for your quarters, I hope you don't mind the cruiser barracks."

"Not a problem, Commander. Step back will ya? Alright boys, crack open this can!" The sides of the crate thudded to the ground revealing an old car inside. "She's the Admiral's car. Put her into storage as soon as he bought it. Hope he won't mind me using her," Texas explained. The car was painted a glossy navy blue with gold racing stripes down the center line. "Well Commander. Shouldn't we be going?", Texas asked as she slid into the driver's seat.

"Yes Ma'am. The Admiral is waiting for you in his office."

"Commander, the one thing I hate more than the enemy is being called Ma'am. Either call me by my name or my rank,"Texas stated.

"Understood, Admiral," California replied.

"Never mind that, just call me Texas." The car's engine started up,a throaty rumble emanating from the hood. "Well, what are you waitin' for?", Texas asked, "Get in!" California strode around the front of the Charger and climbed into the passenger seat.

"The Admiral's office is this way," she said, pointing ass they drove off the tarmac.

Admiral Dougherty was in his office, mountains of paperwork, mostly requisition forms for some item or another, were piled everywhere. A knock on the door drew his attention away from the stack of forms he was working on.

"Come in," he said, looking up. The door silently swung open admitting California and a Fleet Admiral into the room. Dougherty immediately stood up.

"Admiral," he said.

"At ease," the woman stated, "My name is USS Texas, and what I am about to show you is not to leave this room. Cali, close the shades and leave us."

"Yes, Ma'am," she replied. As soon as the door shut, a projection appeared floating in midair. "It all started about this time. Even I don't know what exactly happened,"started Texas. A stretch of ocean appeared on the projection. Sailing on it was a ship he knew very well. "Somehow, USS Nimitz sailed into 1924 leaving her crew and air wing behind. When this happened, it created a new timeline, parallel to the original one. But time gobbledygook is not what I'm here for." The projection changed to show Nimitz under tow from a battleship, one which everyone could recognize.

"My commander, then Captain of Arizona, found Nimitz adrift in the Pacific and quickly captured her and searched the ship for any crew. This was why the First Fleet was created, to keep Nimitz a secret from the rest of the world and to reverse engineer its technologies." An old black and white photograph of a ship under construction with Nimitz in the background replaced the Arizona model.

"This is me under construction," Texas stated, "I was laid down in 1935 and utilized technology from Nimitz, most importantly computers. I was named Texas upon commissioning by President Roosevelt through a presidential order. I was to replace the current Texas after she was to be retired from service in 1942. Unfortunately, Pearl Harbor happened and I was kept a secret from the world as I paved the way for the greater US war machine in the Pacific." The protection changed again to ocean, this time with Texas in the center and a fleet surrounding her.

"Me and my fleet were kept out of the limelight, making the media give our action as other ships like "Battleship X". We never docked in an American port, and only I got to see Pearl Harbor. To this day, my base has never been found by anyone, a testimony of wartime secrecy." The projection faded out. Admiral Dougherty tried to process the spectacle that happened before his eyes.

After a moment, he spoke, "So you are saying that there are a hundred ships from World War Two out there right now and they have been hidden for seventy years?"

"Ninety-four years actually."

"Thank you for this information Texas. As soon as we can clear out a path to Pearl and help to possibly retake Hawaii, we will set our sights on rescuing your friends."

"Understood sir, but I must tell you that at the time I got separated, our fuel reserves could only sustain us for 8 months at most."

"So it's that critical then?"

"Yes sir."

"Well Tex, even if I had spare ships to transport the needed fuel, I couldn't. All our resources are directed to reaching Pearl."

"That's not good enough, Admiral," Texas replied coldly, "There are over ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND people out there on my ships fighting to stay alive, and once those ships run out of fuel, there will be a large chunk of ocean with over 2 million inhabitants just waiting to be slaughtered. Now I bet you think that I don't care about Pearl. You're wrong. I saw the aftermath on that day and I will never let that happen again."

Just then, California burst into the room, "Sir, Texas, I'm sorry to interrupt but our patrol is under attack!"

"What's the enemy makeup?",Dougherty asked.

"Fifteen battleships, forty cruisers, and…" California gasped, "An unknown heavy warship, sir."

"Cali," Texas stated, "Where's the radio room?"

"Over here," she replied.

"Put the radio on open speaker." Sounds of battle filled the room. Static filled voices yelled orders and other words that couldn't be made out. Suddenly, a roar was all that was heard, a deep throaty rumble that spelled doom. "That's a super battleship, Admiral. I fought those often during the first years of the war. Cali, what's the patrol roster look like?"

"Battleships Nevada, Tennessee, and New Mexico along with Juneau and Cleveland," California listed.

"Cali, get me a location on that battle," Texas ordered.

"Their last reported position was in the San Pedro Channel, Ma'am."

"Tell 'em I'm on my way," Texas said as she strode out the door.


	4. Saddle Up, Lock And Load

Date: 27 January, 2017

Time: 16:30 Local Time

Location: Naval Base Coronado, San Diego, California

Texas' mind raced as she walked towards the docks. She had faced that ship before, her memory banks had recorded everything about that encounter. The fleet almost lost that battle when that Abyssal showed up. Now that Texas was on a level playing field, nothing could stop her.

A voice intruded her broodings, " I suppose you are the new arrival?" Texas looked down towards the voice.

"And who might you be?", Texas asked.

"USS Alaska at your service. Ma'am," the shorter woman replied snapping a salute which Texas returned.

"I'm sure you've been briefed on the mission?", Texas asked Alaska.

"Yes Ma'am, we are to go and rough up a couple of Abyssals who are toying with our patrol," Alaska replied.

"Not quite right, there's also an Abyssal super battleship which will punch through the Standard's armor like it wasn't even there," Texas stated, "I fought it before, it almost wiped the First Fleet out. It took a year to get all my ships back to fighting status. By the time I was repaired, we had lost a hundred square miles of territory to the Abyssals."

"So what's the plan?", Alaska asked.

"We soften up the heavy forces from over the horizon then close the range to mop up," the battleship answered.

"What about that super battleship you talked about?", the cruiser asked.

"She's all mine," Texas said grimly.

The two reached the docks and headed over to the launching point. Texas stepped up onto the launching platform and it began. Texas slid on the harness that connected her rigging to her body just as the overhead cranes lowered her tower and raked funnel into place on her back. With a great rush of water came the arms and hull halves slamming into place like boulders. Texas' crew swarmed her decks as the massive main gun turrets were lowered gently into place, welding them down with ease. A old fashioned gun belt materialized around Texas' waist and a Colt Army revolver slid into the holster. On the other side, a scabbard, decked out in white with gold scrollwork, attached itself to the gun belt. Another rush of water brought Alaska's attention to the water where a katana, its blade gleaming even in the dim light, leaped into Texas' outstretched hand which smoothly slid it into the scabbard. Then, smoke started to pour out of Texas' funnel with a rapid series of explosions. She stepped onto the water and sped out of the docks. Texas waited out in the harbor for Alaska to join her.

A voice behind her called out, "Hey slowpoke, Abyssals won't wait much longer, just try to keep up will ya?" Texas turned around to see Alaska speeding away.

"Hmph, let's see how she likes being the slow one," she said to herself as her turboelectric drive spooled up. Alaska steamed smoothly through the Pacific currents towards the embattled patrol, glad to be back out to sea. She should arrive at the designated coordinates a whole two hours before Texas. Texas' southern drawl drew Alaska's attention.

"I thought you were supposed to be fast!", the battleship said as she passed the cruiser, "Now why don't you try to keep up now, ya here?" Alaska stared in shock, how was it possible that she was struggling to keep up with a dreadnought?


	5. The First Battle of Battleship Texas

Date: 27 January, 2017

Time: 17:45 Local Time

Location: Just outside of the San Pedro Channel, California

Texas smiled, that glorified cruiser couldn't keep up with her even if she had half her boilers out, which reminded her.

"Chief," she said. A fairie in greasy dungarees popped out of her right jacket pocket.

"Light up boilers seven through fifteen, I want full power by the time we arrive," Texas ordered. The tiny figure snapped a salute and disappeared back into the depths of Texas' engineering spaces. Another series of explosions echoed out of her funnel as the remaining boilers came to life. A warmth spread through Texas' abdomen as the fires inside grew larger. "You alright back there slowpoke?", Texas called.

"Yes," Alaska replied, panting as she maxed out her turbines.

"Alright, let's get to work. Launch your scout planes and get them over the battle," Texas ordered as she pulled her pistol out of the holster. With a crack, the gun went off, sending two Corsairs flying out the barrel. "Once you sight the enemy, let me know. I've got a surprise for them," she said. Texas holstered her pistol and started to check her weapons. A few minutes passed by before either of them spoke.

"Texas, my scout planes have located the enemy force. Bearing 290, Speed 30 knots, Range 27.4 Nautical Miles."

"Roger that, 'Laska," Texas replied, "Launching Eagle One now." She pulled out her pistol once more and with three bangs, a heavy bomber, a B-17 and a Corsair took flight. The planes circled the duo once and vectored towards the battle, engines howling. "Contact! Bearing 021, Planes inbound!",Texas yelled.

"Where? I don't see them on my radar," Alaska responded. As soon as she said that, dozens possibly hundreds of blips appeared on her radar screens.

"'Laska, I'll take care of this. No offense, but your anti-aircraft is subpar compared to mine, even at my commissioning." Texas' props churned froth as she broke formation and sped towards the planes. As soon as they were in range, her dual purpose Mark 16s opened up, sending eight inch flak shells into the sky. Texas grimaced, she had forgotten how inaccurate her secondary guns had been before her '42 refit, but inaccuracy didn't matter when you had 27 guns per broadside. As the planes started to attack, Texas' unique eight gun 40mm mounts opened up, slashing huge gashes through the formation that had survived the eight inch guns. Alaska stared in awe, nowhere besides an entire fleet had she seen as much flak as Texas was throwing. She had almost wiped out at least a hundred Abyssal aircraft in a matter of minutes, and she hadn't even taken a hit. Although a few planes, most of them trailing smoke, got through, Alaska's weapons splashed them with ease. Silence rolled over the cruiser as Texas' guns ceased.

"See? That was easy," Texas said.

Alaska pointed to the planes she splashed, "You missed some."

Texas shrugged, "I had to give you something to do."

Just as Alaska began to reply, her radio room came to life, "To anyone out there, this is USS Cleveland, we request immediate assistance, we are outnumbered and outgunned. We will hold on as long as we can. Our position is…" The transmission filled with static, then it stopped. She turned towards Texas, her face grim.

"I know, I heard it too," Texas said, "Let's get going." Texas' engines gave a high pitched whine as she maxed them out. "'Laska, don't try to keep up. I'm faster than you by at least three knots, just get there in one piece."

"Tex, where will you be?", the cruiser asked. The battleships reply came in the form of her many secondary turrets swiveling around to lock on the attacking Abyssals. With a sound like a minigun, Texas unleashed her eight inch guns, showering the Abyssals with high explosives. One by one, the radar blips vanished under Texas' fire.

"Alaska, get to the patrol, I want them clear of the area," Texas ordered.

"Aye, Ma'am," came the reply. As Texas came into view over the horizon, the Abyssals opened fire, their shells splashing dangerously near the charging battleship. The two bombers, previously just flying overhead, screamed out of the sky towards the enemy. At the last moment, they pulled upwards, their bellies scraping the water's surface. The six engined plane's bomb bay doors opened, and with a splash, dropped five torpedoes into the water. With a thunderclap, the torpedoes split an abyssal destroyer asunder. Through the smoke charged Texas, her flanks lit up like a Christmas tree. With a roar, Texas' rifles blasted a battleship to pieces. She took a moment and surveyed the forces around her. Her eyes locked with an Abyssal doing the same and it clicked. This was the same super battleship that had terrorized the First Fleet.

"So, this is where you go when sinking normal ships becomes hard?", Texas asked, "Once a ship shows that it can stand up to you and you run, not even going to try to best it in battle. How pathetic. I guess these people are a pushover, or did you finally find the will to dig in and fight?"

The Abyssal Battleship Princess cackled. Never had she had this much fun playing with her quarry since the skirmishes with, she scowled at the memory, _**them**_. The only ships to _resist_ her firepower until _it_ showed up. The first human vessel that gave her a challenge, the first to send her into _retreat_. Her commander wasn't pleased. In fact, that was the reason why she was sent here.

She remembered the words clearly, "I took you in, gave you a name to replace that _**designation**_ , and this is how you repay me? By failure? Get out of my sight, go terrorize the United States or something. They have a fleet based in San Diego." Suddenly, she felt her escorts disappear or cry out in pain. She turned her attention to the remaining Abyssal fleet and saw the impossible. A ship had gotten into her screen almost undetected. There was something... familiar about her though. As if she had faced her before, but that was impossible. She had no memory or reports of this new ship. Wait, six turrets, main rangefinder mounted low, and that raked funnel; this was _**her**_.

"So, this is where you go when sinking normal ships becomes hard?", Texas asked, "Once a ship shows that it can stand up to you and you run, not even going to try to best it in battle. How pathetic. I guess these people are a pushover, or did you finally find the will to dig in and fight?"

"How predictable, they send you to clean up whatever's left of their patrol," the Battleship Princess rasped, "Did your Admiral finally decide to send you to the scrap yard? Pity, if we had known, you might have been by my side right now."

"Well let's settle this, just me and you," Texas replied. With a sound like a clap of thunder, her forward turrets sent their deadly shells flying. The Battleship Princess avoided most of them with a lazy turn to port, which unshadowed her rear turrets. The rounds that hit proved to be troublesome, but her damage control team easily rerouted damaged systems and patched the holes. The grimy, black barrels of her 25 inch guns replied in kind, most ricocheting off of the armor belt that was legendary even within the Abyssal ranks. The one that missed the belt shattered on the face of her heavily armored conning tower with shrapnel flying everywhere. As the smoke cleared, the Battleship Princess could see a small gash in Texas' cheek from where the shell hit, and she didn't look too happy about that.

"Time to finish this," Texas said as she turned to starboard a few degrees, just enough to bring her rear turrets to bear.

Alaska steamed quickly towards the patrol. She could see them coming over the horizon, and they didn't look to be in good shape. As she got closer, the full extent of the damage was clear. All three Standards had taken quite a beating from the Abyssal shells, but the cruisers were in worse shape. Juneau had her rear turrets blown off and her port oil bunkers had ruptured, giving the Atlanta-class cruiser a heavy list. Cleveland was better off than Juneau but she was in no shape to fight either. All of her main batteries had been destroyed along with her forward director and radar. Alaska had closed enough to see the girls themselves and the damage reflected heavily. Both cruisers had arms in crude slings with huge gashes in Juneau's left leg and the entire area around Cleveland's right eye gone. Nevada steamed slowly, both of her legs bloodied and her left arm hanging limp. She was the first to see the approaching Alaska and signaled with her lamp. Under fire from Abyssal cruisers and destroyers, Alaska pulled alongside the battleship and began sending over DamCon parties and supplies.

"I hear that our new ship arrived today," the old warship said.

"Yeah, she's quite interesting. In fact, we should be meeting up with her, after she deals with the Abyssal battleships." Nevada's forward turrets roared, sending a cruiser who got too close to its doom.

"One ship, in as commissioned configuration, is going up against that many Abyssals?", asked New Mexico.

"Trust me, Mex, she's no ordinary ship, I had trouble trying to keep up with her getting here," the large cruiser replied.

"How is that possible? You are one of the fastest capital ships we have," Tennessee said.

"Can we please stop asking questions? I'm under orders to get you five home before Abyssal reinforcements show up," Alaska snapped as she blasted two charging destroyers out of the water. Just then, a massive thunderclap coming from the battle rolled over them, bringing a blanket of silence over the battered ships.

"That sounded like a magazine explosion, a pretty large one at that," Nevada stated, breaking the silence.

"Only Texas has magazines large enough to explode like that," Alaska moaned, "Great, on her first sortie she gets sunk."

The Abyssal Battleship Princess screamed in pain. Texas had mauled her right side and destroyed her forward turrets. She could barely stand on what little flesh attached her leg to the rest of her body. As the red cleared from her only remaining eye, the Battleship Princess saw Texas line up for the killing blow.

She quickly sent a radio burst to an Abyssal submarine lurking nearby,"This is Oppressor, I've been seriously damaged and will not survive. Tell Master that her worst fear has come true. I shall fight to the last shell. Long live the Terran Empire!"

"Before I sink you, I ask for a ship insignia to enshrine. You fought well and deserve this honor," Texas said.

"I've failed in my mission," Oppressor coughed, "I'm no longer worthy of my master. Take my crest, I will never need it again." She threw a metal object at Texas' feet.

"Now finish me," the Abyssal said, "I have dishonored my fleet." Texas trained her turrets on the battleship's magazines and fired. The resulting explosion ripped the ship apart within seconds leaving only an oil slick behind to show there was even a ship there in the first place.

Alaska was just about to report back to base about the loss of Texas to the Abyssals when Tennessee called out, "Contact off starboard! Bearing 076!" Alaska went to General Quarters, if that was the ship that killed Texas, she would fight her till the last shell to protect the patrol. She broke formation and sped towards the unknown contact. Alaska's radar showed the contact just behind the horizon where her lookouts couldn't see it. As she got closer, the ship began to come into view. A tall tower rose from the horizon followed by a raked funnel and bulky superstructure. Three massive turrets sat behind a graceful bow. Alaska knew who it was.

"Tex, I thought you were destroyed," she radioed.

"Nah, I did get a few scratches though. How's the patrol doin'?",came the southern drawl of the battleship.

"They're pretty banged up, Nevada took a torp to her shafts. She's limited to 16 knots maximum." By this time, Texas had sailed past the cruiser towards her new charges. Alaska swung around and fell into line with Texas.

"How about you?", the battleship asked,"Did you take any damage?"

"Took a couple of shots to my bow and radar arrays, all superficial." Texas was about to reply when a transmission from Nevada came into her radio room.

"The patrol's under attack, aircraft from an unknown source," Texas reported. They arrived just in time to see an Abyssal plane dive on Nevada. She put her left arm up trying to protect her face when the plane released its bomb. Texas, her attention on fending off the planes, snapped her head towards Nevada when the battleship cried out in pain. At once, the air surrounding the super battleship dropped in temperature as her vision went red. The Abyssal plane pulled up and started heading back to its carrier. Texas pushed her engines to the limits and followed. The enemy carrier lurked just over the horizon and spotted the angry battleship way before Texas found her. As she attempted to get away, Texas, closing at over 35 knots, brutally amputating the carrier's legs with a salvo from Turret One. The Abyssal fell onto the water, screeching in pain. Texas kicked the injured ship in the stomach, sending her flying.

"You attacked an injured, defenseless ship and seriously damaged her," Texas growled, her normally sea blue eyes flashing to a sickly green, "Let's see how you like it." The carrier weakly reached for her staff which Texas kicked out of her reach.

"Marines, board this wreck, I want one of each plane she carries. If you meet any resistance, shoot to kill." Several tiny fairies clad in combat gear rushed down Texas' arm and jumped onto the carrier. After a couple of minutes, the boarding party secured the hanger and started to bring planes back to Texas. Once they were back aboard, Texas unsheathed her katana.

"You hurt my ships, I hurt you," she snarled and with a stroke, beheaded the carrier.

Deep underwater in the middle of the Pacific sat a rusting hulk. Once a proud warship, its armor had absorbed many hits. Now, the only thing that hit the ship was ocean currents. Inside one of the former battleship's cargo holds sat a shadowy figure. The strong watertight door in the bulkhead creaked open and admitted another.

"My Lord, Oppressor has failed. She was bested by an unknown battleship," the Wo-Class carrier said. The figure's eye opened, its yellow iris locking onto the groveling Abyssal.

"No matter," She said, "The United States is already cut off from their primary military base in the Pacific, they will soon fall."

"There's more information, Master," the Wo-Class continued, "The submarine who accompanied her took a picture of the unknown ship for identification." She handed the photo to her commander. The figure looked at the ship depicted on the paper.

"Where was this taken?," she asked coldly.

"Just south of one of the human cities, the one called Los Angeles," the Wo replied.

"Gather all the carriers, we're making an assault on Taratupa. We'll show that if you sink a Princess, there will be consequences," The figure leaned into the light, her scarred visage displaying a wicked grin, "And this time Texas will die!"

 **Author's Note**

Hey all! Crossroads here. I would like to say thank you to all those who have read my work thus far and I hope that you've enjoyed it. Besides the main story, I have been wanting to do some crazy possibly canon omakes with my cast of ships. Please PM me if you have any ideas for them or possible characters that may or may not pop up. Also, I do not mind criticism so if you find something that doesn't make sense or can't be explained by Belated Battleships' MSSB (I highly recommend reading that story if you haven't already) please let me know. Until next time, Crossroads out.


	6. Imperial Conquest Part 1

Date: 17 April, 1962

Time: 14:00 Imperial Time

Location: Imperial Naval Base Alameda

*KRACKATOOM* Battleship ISS Texas, former flagship of the Terran Empire now the flagship of the Western Pacific Rebellion, lay in pieces as her killer loomed over her. It was the brand new ISS Conqueror, the most powerful battleship in the Pacific. As Texas' bow slid under the water, Conqueror turned her guns on the surviving rebels in the water. On her bridge stood Grand Admiral Getchell, smirking at the flaming patch of ocean.

"Wipe them out," he growled, "All of them." The massive battleship thundered, her weapons showing no mercy towards the rebel scum. Screams filled the air as the few remaining rebels succumbed to the ghastly wounds Conqueror inflicted. The Terran flagship then turned towards the rebel fleet at the mouth of the harbor.

"Radio, send this message over general radio, uncoded. Rebel Fleet, your flagship, the former ISS Texas, has been defeated. Surrender now and no harm shall come to you," Getchell ordered. Conqueror approached the fleet as several white flags were run up.

"So that's how you want to do things?", Getchell asked, "So be it. Gunnery, fire on all rebel ships! Give them no mercy." Conqueror's turrets splayed out towards the ships which surrounded her. The battleship cut through the ships with ease, nothing stopping her. *SCREECH* Conqueror sliced through a destroyer, its crew's blood smearing across the Terran ship's side. With a roar, two dozen missiles screamed out of their tubes and raced towards the last rebel battleship. The missiles plowed through the rebel armor and exploded deep within the ship, its funnel hemorrhaging black smoke. Suddenly, three water plumes erupted on the opposite side of the stricken rebel ship which quickly rolled over and disappeared from sight.

"What?!", Getchell yelled. As the smoke cleared, an Interrogator class destroyer sailed into view.

"Admiral, sir, they are contacting us," a crewman reported.

"On the overhead," the Terran replied.

"Admiral, this is Captain Reinhart of the Imperial Destroyer R. Brady Finch, I'm glad that I arrived in time to help," came a voice. "So am I," the Admiral grated. Getchell gave a hand signal to mute the input.

"Helm, set an intercept course, full ahead. Slice him in half," He said. The massive turbines sent vibrations through the decks as they spun up to full power. The ship surged forward towards the traitorous destroyer.

"Admiral, you are on a collision course with my ship," the radio sounded. The small destroyer tried to swing out of the way of the knifelike bow, but no one can out run a battleship. Over the radio, a sickening metallic crunch was heard as Conqueror hit the destroyer. Bloodcurdling screams rang out as the Terran ship was cleaved in half. As the bow reached the bridge of the Finch, the radio faded to static. Admiral Getchell grinned, his bloodlust satisfied.

"Captain Edwards, have the kitchen prepare a victory feast for this momentous occasion," the Admiral ordered.

"Yes sir," the future Grand Admiral replied, grinning wickedly.

Author's Note

Hey All! Sine the Terran Empire was revealed in the last chapter, I thought that I should write some flashbacks that happen before the main story starts. Hope you all like it and please feel free to tell me what y'all think. until next time, Crossroads out! (EDIT: 8-31-16 I apologize for the original upload of this chapter, I have no iddea what went wrong. Should be fixed now.)


	7. A Crack Begins To Form

28 January, 2017

Time: 11:00 Local Time

Location: Naval Base Coronado, San Diego, California

Admiral Dougherty paced nervously. It had been ten hours since he had heard from the patrol and seven since Texas and Alaska broke off contact.

"Latest situation report sir," California said, handing him a paper.

"When did this come in?", he asked, looking over the page.

"Texas just reported in, she had wounded."

Texas was exhausted, she had emptied her secondary magazines and depleted the ready queue of her main guns. Her radar and sonar worked overtime, assuring the safety of her charges. After making contact with San Diego, she sent Alaska ahead with Cleveland and Atlanta to prepare for the wounded battleships' arrival.

"Hey Nevada, how are you doing?", she asked.

"Better," Nevada replied just before crying out in pain once more.

"What's wrong?", Texas asked.

"One of my bulkheads just gave way, I'm taking in water," Nevada whimpered as she settled lower in the water, listing to starboard. Texas pulled up alongside the foundering battleship. "Chief," she ordered, "Get some of your crew to lash Nevada to my hull, and prepare to flood all uninhabitable compartments on the port side." Her Chief Engineer popped back up from Texas' pocket, and grumbled something.

"I don't care if it fouls up my oil, get it done!", Texas ordered. The figure gave a reluctant salute and disappeared once more. A mass of faeries crowded Texas' deck as they lashed the two battleships together. With a sound of groaning metal, Texas listed over, lifting Nevada out of the water. The old Standard hissed in pain as she settled against Texas' hull.

"It's only temporary, my Damage Control teams should have you patched up in no time," Texas said.

"Sir," Admiral Dougherty said, "I was not expecting you at all."

"I understand Admiral, I just arrived. Now I have some questions about the personnel file for your new battleship. Are you aware that her rank is listed as a Fleet Admiral?", asked the man sitting across from Dougherty.

"Yes, Mr. Secretary, I am aware. Texas… is an interesting ship to say the least, but given her performance so far, she deserves that rank," the Admiral replied.

"I don't understand," asked the official, "She's been under your command for less than a day. How can you be sure that she deserves that rank?" At that moment,thunder rang out from the harbor. Admiral Dougherty and the visitor stood and looked out the window overlooking the water. Outside, a battle raged. Battleship Colorado raced to shore trying to keep Nevada afloat with New Mexico and Tennessee in tow, their guns blasting over their shoulders. With a roar, Texas' guns brought the attention to an Abyssal cruiser who strayed too close. Its bow caved inwards, like it was trying to turn itself inside out, before the entire ship burst into shrapnel. As the two looked on, the blast from Texas' main battery hit the building. Both jumped as the once clear window turned white and then crumbled to the floor. Outside,what remained of the cruiser sinking into the bay seemed to deter the remaining Abyssal ships which turned, and with a final salvo, rapidly left the area.

"I now see what you mean Admiral, Texas is," He paused, "unique. Although battle performance is only part of what makes a good commander, for the other parts, we shall see."

Texas, wounded and weary, stepped onto the platform in the docks, her rigging being lifted away. As soon as she left the docks, an older woman appeared by her side.

"Vestal, I presume?", the super-battleship asked.

"Indeed, I would like to let you know how stupid you were with Nevada's repairs. Do you know how long it will take for me to realign her structure after that stunt you pulled?", she scolded.

"I have faith in your work. Now, if you would excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to," Texas said.

"Damn self-inflated, pointy-eared hobgoblin," Vestal growled as Texas left.

A soft knock on Dougherty's door interrupted the conversation.

"Enter," the Admiral said. The door softly swung open and Texas stepped through.

"Dougherty, we need to talk," she said.

"Texas, this is Mr. Swanson, he's-"

"Howdy," Texas interrupted, "Admiral, we need to talk now. There's a bigger war goin' on here."

"Ahh, Texas," Mr. Swanson said, "Claude Swanson, Secretary of the Navy." Texas stopped, her head slowly turning towards the Secretary with oiled precision. After a few moments, Texas snapped to attention, hand raised in a salute,"Sir, my apologies."

The Secretary returned the salute,"At ease, Admiral. please , continue." She pulled out the Abyssal crest. It was made up of a globe, the Americas proudly displayed on the hemisphere, and a broadsword behind running vertically, handle above the North Pole.

"This is the emblem of the Terran Empire, Admiral. The Empire is the United States in some sort of mirror dimension. Everything that our country stands for is the exact opposite of the Terran Empire. War, conquest, subjugation, and treachery are the ways of life there. I picked this emblem off of what you call a Abyssal Battleship Princess. Admiral, if the Terran Empire is involved here, we could be facing a very bloody fight."

"And just how do you know all this?", Secretary Swanson asked.

"April 25, 1942, a inter-dimensional rift forms connecting our Earth with the Terran one. But, this is not just a tear in space, no, it is also a tear in time. A Terran battleship from the year 1960 traveled through the rift and engaged my fleet, thinking it was part of the Terran Earth's Japanese Navy. The First Fleet proceeded to disable the ship and recovered it along with its entire historical library. That Terran ship served under my flag for five months, until it was scuttled due to crippling and irreparable damage. From what we can tell, this rift is a natural phenomenon. It's anyone guess when or where it will reappear."

"Any idea of if this current crisis is due to another one of these rifts opening?", Swanson asked.

"All the evidence that I have on record suggests that it might be," the battleship replied.

"Thank you for this information. Now, Admiral, let's continue our discussion," the Secretary stated.

"Sir, permission to return to the docks? I need to check up on the wounded," Texas asked. "Permission granted, Admiral, see to your troops well being," Swanson replied.

"Aye Aye sir," Texas said. The battleship turned and left the office.

"Well, Mr. Secretary? I think that was a clear judge of character," Dougherty said, breaking the silence. The Secretary looked at the empty window frame.

"Indeed," he replied.

Thoughts raced through Texas' head as she headed back to the repair docks. She had faced the might of the Empire only once before, and Conqueror had almost sunk her. If this was the work of the Empire, then who knows what ships they brought through this time. But what if the Empire wasn't involved? What if the Abyss had found the wreckage of her Terran counterpart? What if it was Conqueror herself? The Fleet would have the answers, Texas thought, they always do. *Clang* Texas backwards, dazed.

"Hey! Watch where you're going you-", the voice faltered. Texas looked downwards, her gaze coming to rest on a woman with hair as black as night. The figure straightened her flight jacket and popped a salute.

"M'am, USS Midway CVB-41, my apologies M'am!", Midway shouted.

"At ease, Midway," Texas sighed.

"Is there something wrong M'am?", the carrier asked.

"Wha? Oh no, nothing's wrong. Just a lot of things goin' on in here," Texas said, pointing to her head. Midway watched as the white-clad man-of-war wandered away, obviously lost in thought, "Nothing wrong, yeah right."

How could she forget? Seventy-five years ago,seventy five years! The ship who had served with distinction since 1927, gone in an instant. It was her fault, Texas scolded herself, if she had been closer to Renegade during the Java Sea campaign.

"She still would have blown up sooner or later," a voice leered in her head.

"It was a design flaw of the Turmoils," Texas fought back, "Turmoil herself had the same thing happen to her."

The voice inside her head sneered, "You forget, 'Gade was pummeled to death before she was able to limp home. She died because YOU weren't there to help. She blew in the harbor because of your inability to act on the battlefield. You were lucky that her crew was not on board or you would have blood on your hands. Blood that would have stained your career, never to wash out." Texas could still see it, the battered, burning Turmoil-class listing heavily suddenly engulfed in a ball of flame, shattered into millions of pieces. 35 men aboard the two Recovery-class tugs destroyed died that day, never again would they see their families or loved ones, never again would those men laugh, cry, or fight for their country. Texas stopped, she needed to leave. The base was no place for a ship like her. The once strong facade was crumbling, Texas' true emotions were starting to break through. Her command crew was screaming in her head to leave the base before she broke down completely. Texas spied a cruiser, Helena, and after that everything was a blur. The next thing Texas knew, she was in her quarters. She looked around at the bland, Navy-issue room, and collapsed onto her bed.


	8. The Crack Widens

Date: 29 January, 2017

Time: 0:27 Local Time

Location: Naval Base Coronado, San Diego, California

The deck plates shuddered underfoot, lights flickered as shells impacted the ship. Sirens blared. The hall was crowded as sailors rushed around, trying to save their ship. Throughout all the chaos, waded a woman in a sailor's uniform . She had numerous wounds across her body, wounds that increased in size every time the ship shuddered beneath her feet. Blood matted down what was left of her auburn hair, now charred. Almost too late to save the dying ship, the thunder of guns echoed down from the main deck. Too little, too late. With the sound of tearing metal, an explosion ripped open the hull to sea. The woman staggered to her feet, pain narrowing her vision. With fire behind her green eyes, she watched as the guns futilely fought against the enemy. A great pain flared in her head as a salvo of Japanese shells impacted the bridge. Bleeding profusely from open wounds, the woman collapsed against a bulkhead. Weakening, she raised her head off her chest where it lie. She knew at this point, she was doomed. A small splash outside caught her attention. Eyes wide open, she searched the sea through the mangled hull until a torpedo set off a fiery explosion that consumed her.

USS Quincy woke with a jolt. That same nightmare haunted her ever since she returned. Rubbing her eyes, Quincy got up to grab herself a drink. Suddenly, an explosion rattled the building.

"All hands General Quarters!" Quincy dropped her mug and ran out of her room. Quincy stopped. The corridor she was in wasn't the cruiser barracks. In fact, it wasn't any corridor on the base!

"Quincy!", a voice yelled. The New Orleans turned around. "Thank God I found you!", a taller black haired woman said.

"Baltimore, what's going on? Where are we?", Quincy asked.

"I don't know, but I think we are on a ship. These markings are consistent with US Navy deck markings from our time," Baltimore replied. The two were soon joined by the Brooklyn twins, Phoenix and Honolulu, and two Fletchers. The walls flickered.

"Did anyone else see that?", Quincy asked.

"See what?", Phoenix asked. Quincy didn't have to answer as the corridor was suddenly populated with sailors. The congregated ships stared at their surroundings as ratings and officers walked by, performing their duties.

"This is weird, they don't even notice us. It's like we aren't even here," Baltimore said. The rest of her words were drowned out by an announcement.

"Lieutenant Roberts, report to the fo'c'sle at once."

A passing officer was heard saying to his companion, "I bet that's the Admiral wanting to ask me about the repairs we made to the anchor chains after we made port. Talk to you at the DamCon meeting at 1700, Sergeant."

"Let's follow him," Honolulu said. The other ships agreed and tailed the officer up through the ship.

"Where are we?", the Brooklyn class cruiser asked after they emerged from the bowels of the ship. The ship they were on was in a large tropical lagoon. Ships of all sizes milled about, pulling in and out of berths and steaming through the large set of locks framed by large mountains at the mouth of the lagoon.

"Those are Richelieu class battleships!", one of the Fletchers, USS The Sullivans, exclaimed, pointing at three battleships in sparkling white paint.

"Those aren't Baguettes, Sully. Their superstructures are all wrong," Quincy said. At that moment, shouts were heard. Coming into the lagoon was another Richelieu look-alike being towed by three tugs. Her once white paint was masked by black explosion marks and several chunks looked like they had been ripped out. The ship was listing heavily to port, smoke billowed from gashes in her hull and superstructure. The battleship was halfway between the gate and the ship the cruisers were on when a huge fireball encompassed her and the three tugs. Small chunks of battleship soared through the air, some splashing back down into the lagoon.

"My God," Baltimore gasped.

"All Hands General Quarters!", that same call. Almost immediately, two small ships were at the wreckage, spraying off what was left. Only the very tip of the stern remained, blackened but the gold lettering shown through. Renegade.

"Renegade? What kind of name for a battleship is Renegade?", asked Phoenix.

"The name of a second-in-command!", a southern drawl yelled. The ships turned around, standing a deck above was Texas. "More specifically, mine," the ice in her voice was clear. "She-," Texas faltered. Texas turned and strode out of sight. The ships turned back to the wreckage of Renegade, the fires still blazing inside cooked off the rest of the unexploded ammunition and another fireball erupted, scorching the two fireships.

"I never saw a ship go out like that. To limp back to your home then explode inside as your family watches? It's- It's not right," Quincy said, "Come on, let's try to find Texas." The ships turned and started to head back inside the superstructure when the scene changed. The ship they were standing on was now battered and blackened. Not even five miles away lay a Japanese battleship, its guns aimed at them. Before it could fire, shells streaked overhead and balls of fire came into existence as they found their mark on the enemy.

"Look," Honolulu said. Behind the battleship on which they stood was another. Its 12 forward guns were aimed at the Japanese ship. As it sailed past, Quincy could see the name on its stern. Renegade. Those same gold letters from the first ship now adorned another. A radio crackle came from thin air.

"Blackbeard to Lone Star. Admiral, I keep telling you to not use your ship as a battering ram! This was exactly what I was talking about!", a voice said.

"Captain Spriggs, your timing is impeccable," a much older voice replied, "Is that your new ship?"

"Yes sir! You know as well as I that the First Fleet can't be without a Renegade. I'm just happy that I got command of the second."

"Well Spriggs, you commanded the first quite well. It was no contest on who would command the second," the Admiral chuckled, "I'm sure there's plenty to discuss about your new ship, but let's save that for later. Lone Star Out." The surroundings faded, leaving the cruisers back in one of the rooms inside the cruiser barracks.

"And now you know," said a small voice behind them. Quincy started to turn. "No, don't. I would prefer it if y'all didn't speak of this now that you know of 'Gade. She served faithfully as her successor does to this day. I couldn't even begin to describe what I've experienced. And y'all shouldn't ask. Now git, leave, vamoose. I know y'all have much more important things ta do." As they left, a single tear ran down the old battleship's cheek and dropped to the floor.

Author's Note:

Alright guys, this time I added two chapters to Texas Rising. I would like to remind y'all that criticism is welcomed and encouraged. Until next time, Lone Star out.


	9. A Former Foe

Date: 29 January, 2017

Time: 16:30 JST

Location: Yokosuka Naval Base, Japan

Plumes of water burst up all around her. The battleship looked over her fantail to see the wretched ship still there. Balls of fire bloomed from its forward guns, sending shells of malice screeching through the air. The battleship turned, hoping to dodge their fire, but it was all in vain. She knew the shells would hit their marks and mentally prepared for the pain. It was excruciating. No other ship could hurt her in that way. The battleship turned her three twin turrets towards the phantom and sent six twenty inch projectiles down range. But it all proved futile as all of them ricocheted. Smoke as black as death curled lazily out of the enemy's raked funnel as the Grim Reaper turned to claim another soul. She had escaped this fate before, when she was still afloat, but there won't be any relief this time. Her crew tried to turn her away from the 18 black pits that were aimed at her. By the time her rudder has shifted, the Reaper's henchmen were already clawing and chewing their way towards her. She could see the rusted hulks of metal fly, she could see the feral grins as they homed in on her,their target. She couldn't do anything. Once again she was powerless to stop her fate. If there was only a way. A faint murmur was heard through the chaos. Her eyes snapped open, revealing a chamber decorated with Japanese art and the Rising Sun. The shadows of the phantoms were still livid in her eye and with a roar, her three turrets blasted towards the biggest, the one with the white flag emblazoned with black cannon. She had to get away. Before the battleship could do anything, a brute force dropped her to the water's surface. She blinked, the shadows fading. There, standing where the Reaper once sailed, stood an Admiral. Six smoking craters surrounded his shadow on the wall behind him.

"Report," he said, his brown eyes unblinking. The weight on top of the battleship eased and she got up, straightening her black kimono.

"Sir, Japanese Battleship Satsuma, fourth of the Yamato class battleships, sir!", Satsuma said.

The Japanese Admiral smiled, "Welcome home Satsuma. I'm Admiral Goto,your commanding officer. And this is my secretary ship…"

"Yamato," Satsuma whispered, her eyes welling up. The name ship of the Yamato class had tears of joy running down her cheek. The newly returned Satsuma fell into her arms, sobbing.

"It was horrible. My fleet did everything they could but it was not enough. Not even my power couldn't stop them," Satsuma cried.

"Satsuma-san," Yamato said.

"They sunk me. The Reaper's Fleet. I could- couldn't," Satsuma buried her face into Yamato's shirt sobbing uncontrollably. Admiral Goto looked at his secretary ship, turned and left the summoning chamber.

Author's Note

Hey everyone! I know it's a little shorter than the previous ones. Please let me know what you think of this little section. I did try my best with the Japanese ships, any and all comments on this are helpful since I have little to no idea how to portray the Japanese kanmusu. Anyways, please enjoy and I should have more coming soon!

Crossroads Out


	10. Outburst Pt 1

Date: 30 January, 2017

Time: 05:00 PST

Location: Naval Base Coronado, San Diego, California

The base mess hall was abuzz with activity. Humans and kanmusu intermingled and chatted. Texas stepped through the door.

"Admiral on deck!" The whole mess snapped to attention.

"As you were," Texas said. Soon, the noise resumed, but with hushed whispers and frequent glances at the battleship. Texas went over to the soda fountain and got a ice cold mug of rootbeer. Finding a secluded corner, she went over and sat down facing the windows. She could still see it in her mind's eye, the fireball that consumed Renegade, her friend and the closest thing she had to an actual sister ship. When the second Renegade joined the fleet, she was elated. She was almost the same one she knew, but it wasn't the same. Sure, she was captained and crewed by the first's, but 'Gade had changed. After awhile, she got used to the Tillman, but Texas would never forget the Turmoil class that beared the name before it.

"M'am, may I sit?"

Texas looked up from her drink to see California standing there.

"I heard what happened," the Standard said, sitting down across the table, "I know what you are going through."

Texas stared at her, "Who told you?"

The older ship looked uneasy, and with a sigh, said, "It was Quincy. She seems really worried about you."

Texas stood and looked down at California, "Nothing you've experienced can compare. You know nothing of how I feel." Her eyes briefly shifted to that same nuclear green. "None of you can."

Texas turned and strode out of the mess hall.

"Well then," California huffed, "Time to get busy I see."

The Standard got up and followed Texas out of the mess, she couldn't even make pace with the fast battleship, but she didn't need to. California knew where she was going. She got there just in time to see Texas' door close. California knocked on the door.

"Tex? You in there," she called. No answer. "Listen, I do know what you are going through. I was at Pearl, I saw my family die before my very eyes. I-" The door snapped open, a monstrous form of American steel on the other side. California, surprised, stepped back. The woman in front of her wasn't Texas. Her hair was short, charred, and her eyes, those eyes. They glowed nuclear green, their pupils filled with savagery and fire. Scratch that, one was actually on fire!

" _ **YOU KNOW NOTHING! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO WATCH AS THE BURNING CORPSE OF YOUR PREDECESSOR COLLAPSE ON YOUR OWN MEN TRYING TO RESCUE THOSE INSIDE! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO WATCH AS THREE DIFFERENT SHIPS DIE BECAUSE I COULDN'T HELP, BECAUSE I COULDN'T SAVE THEM!"**_ California opened her mouth to reply, but Texas continued her tirade, " _ **ARIZONA! RENEGADE! RELIANT! ALL DIED BECAUSE OF ME! I WAS RUSHING TO THEIR AID BEFORE THEY COULD EVEN CALL FOR HELP!"**_ The hulking mass moved closer, close enough that California could see the ice starting to form on her uniform from the waves of cold fury radiating off Texas. " _ **GOOD, YOUNG MEN DIED BECAUSE OF MY INABILITY TO SAVE THEM! TWENTY-THREE HUNDRED ON ARIZONA! THIRTY-SIX HUNDRED ON RELIANT! EVEN FORTY-SIX OF MY OWN CREW DIED TRYING TO HELP! I WAS BUILT TO PROTECT THE PACIFIC FLEET! ONCE THOSE FIRST BOMBS FELL, I HAD FAILED! DO YOU KNOW HOW THAT FEELS? DO YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO FAIL YOUR MISSION AND OVER FIFTY-FIVE HUNDRED PAY FOR IT? NO! YOU DON'T! YOU CAN'T! BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T HAVE THAT HAPPEN TO YOU!"**_ Texas back up and slammed the door shut, leaving the small battleship in a cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably.


	11. Outburst Pt 2

As soon as she closed the door, Texas took in a deep breath and the anger subsided. She turned and looked at the three model ships on her desk. The three had nothing in common, yet they did.

Arizona. The first flagship and her mentor. The one who stayed by her side as Texas went through her trials. She was so proud to hand off the flag to a worthy successor only to die months later.

Renegade. The stoic Turmoil class that was her second in command. It only took one small thing to crack that facade and let out the friendly, cheerful person inside. That crack doomed her.

Reliant. The Defiant class who pledged her life to protect her country. The first casualty of this god-forsaken war. She'd gone down with her rifles aflame, a tribute to her class name.

Texas stared at them, burning their silhouettes into her optics. She vowed that their sacrifices will not be in vain, for she will make the enemy pay. Texas grabbed her sword from its mounting on the wall. Admiral Yamamoto had given it to the admiral as a sign of respect and gratitude for helping defeat the rogue warlord Admiral Osumi, previously thought killed in action, in 1942. The curved weapon glowed in the din, the polished blade reflecting the face of its owner. She was built to be a spearhead, keeping those who came after her out of harm's way. Texas ended up a wrecking ball, pummeling the enemy relentlessly until she was forced to sail on to the next target. Now, she was determined to fulfill the mission she was designed for. She slid the blade back into its sheath and set it back onto the wall mounting, then walked out of her room.

It was in this condition that Alaska found the Standard, leaning up against the wall.  
"Cali?," She said as she got closer, "What's wrong?" The battleship only raised a trembling finger and pointed at Texas' door. Alaska stood and turned towards the door, finding it cracked open.  
"Tex? You in there?", she called. No answer. Cautiously, she eased open the door. Painted on the wall opposite was a crest. Two cross rifles, one bearing a 48-star flag and the other, a plain white flag with a cannon and the words "Come and Take It" burned into the fabric. Both were ripped, burnt and holed. Beneath the flags were the dates 1924 and 1935. Surrounding the rifles and flags were the words: "United States First Fleet" at the top and "A Thousand Battles, A Thousand Victories" at the bottom. Right in the center was a golden number one. Alaska turned towards the desk. Above it were the words "Never Forget" with three shelves below. The shelves themselves were empty, but the picture frames hanging from them weren't. A large mushroom cloud rising above a tropical lagoon, a shattered, burning hulk slowly sinking, and… that famous picture; the one which started a war. Alaska understood now, the three ships on the desk, the pictures, the words, everything. Well, almost everything. There was still the matter with Cali and pretty much everything surrounding Texas.  
"A..Abyssal," a voice rasped behind her. Alaska turned. California stood at the doorway, her eyes locked on her.  
"'Laksa, we have to warn the admiral," she said, "Texas…." She shook, "Texas is not one of us."  
"Cali, Texas is not an abyssal, she's a valued member of the fleer. Come on, let's get you back to your quarters, you've obviously overworked yourself again," the large cruiser replied, and she led the tired standard back to her room.

Deep below the waters of the Pacific sat a decrepit hulk. For seven decades, it had rusted away, strong currents blasting through the numerous shell holes in her hull, ripping off loose plating. But now, the old warship had a new lease on life. Inside her decaying corridors and rusted out rooms, Abyssals walked around, receiving reports from deployed forces and dispatching new forces with orders to kill. The only sight of this was a dim glow coming from the shattered remains of the bridge. A knock on the hatch caught its occupant's attention.  
"Enter," she said, her voice grating like a rusted, broken machine that refused to die. A timid figure entered, a carrier. "Report," the figure said, her back turned towards the shivering Abyssal.  
"My.. My Lord, we just received a report from one of our submarines," the carrier said.  
"And?"  
"Sh.. She reports that Oppressor has fallen in battle." The rest of the carrier's report was cut off by an armored gauntlet smashing through a bridge console, sending sparks and arcs of electricity flying.  
"What!", the figure boomed, spinning around revealing her blazing sulfur-yellow eye to the terrified Abyssal.  
"The sub also sent along a photograph she took of the ship responsible," she stuttered out. The figure stepped into the light, her scarred visage snarling, and took the picture.  
After studying it for a second, she spoke, "Is this report accurate?"  
The carrier worked up the courage to reply to the strangely calm battleship, "Yes, my lord. We haven't been able to classify it yet but we th-" Her sentence was cut short by a sword, its edge serrated, rammed through her throat. The Abyssal slumped onto the blade, its blue blood running down the remaining length, over the globe and sword emblem and dripping down onto the warped deck plates.  
"Guards!", the Terran called. Two Re-class battleships entered. "Recall the fleets, and prepare a carrier strike group. We'll show the humans that they can't get away with destroying a princess," she snarled, "And get this disgusting excuse for a corpse out of my sight!" The two ships ripped the carrier off the sword and dragged it out of the bridge, blood trailing out behind it.  
"And now," she said while staring at the ship in the picture, "the First Fleet will know my pain, know the torture I've endured after what they did to me! Taratupa will burn with my wrath, its gates will crack open and hordes of my ships will pour through. Nothing will stand in the way of my revenge and finally, after all this time, Texas will die!"


	12. Imperial Conquest Pt 2

Date:25 April, 1942

Time: 11:00 Local Time

Location: Pacific Ocean, Texas Rising Universe

Sirens blared as the battleship's crew rushed to their stations. In front of their vessel lay… something. No one on board could give any explanation. As soon as the apparition appeared, it was gone, leaving behind a warship. Almost as big as the first one, the new arrival had seven massive triple turrets and numerous smaller secondary guns, all heavily armored. Above her deck flew a flag of blood red. Emblazoned in the center was a golden hemisphere, the Americas proudly displayed, impaled by a broadsword. Without warning, the massive turrets swung over to point their guns at the battleship. The fight was on. At this close of a range, it was suicidal. As the two ships passed within a hundred feet of each other, their secondary batteries pounded each other's superstructure. The American came out better off however, as her man battery guns silenced a majority of her opponent's. Three big planes roared off of her stern and started to bombard the Terran with all their might. One more salvo from the American's main guns silenced the remaining artillery and she drew in close to preform a boarding action. Over a hundred Marines swarmed the bloody deck of the Terran vessel. Soon, ISS Conqueror was in American hands and the two battered warships sailed off to her new home.


	13. Reconciliation

Date: 31 January, 2017

Time: 22:00 Hawaii Time

Location: Somewhere in the Pacific

"All hands General Quarters! Man your battlestations!", the intercom blared. Seamen and officers rushed through the corridors, pulling on flak jackets and helmets.

"Attention all hands, this is Admiral Davis. The defense perimeter grid has detected a large Abyssal force heading towards Australia and New Zealand. As we are already underway, we are going to intercept them and stall their advance until the rest of the fleet shows up. Do your best and we should be handed an easy victory." Down in Engineering, enlisted crew ran around turning valves and flipping switches, sending steam into the turbines wired to the turrets.

"Chief to Weapons Officer, Turrets are live." The lights inside Turret One flickered on as the gun crews reached their positions.  
"Bore's clear!" The projectile lift whirred to life.  
"Projectile coming up! She's Armed!" The lift stopped and the big rammer gently pushed the shell and powder bags into the breech and the firing chamber door slammed shut.  
"Sealed!"  
"Turret One to CIC, All weapons hot, ready to fire on your command!" Up on the bridge, Admiral Davis watched his crew prepare for combat. It had been a long 5 years since this war started and the First Fleet had finally broken the blockade surrounding their territory. For the first time, they were taking the fight to the enemy.  
"Captain, ready Wave Rider and the Corsairs, I want to know exactly what it is we're going against," he said.  
"Aye sir," the captain, a tall, auburn haired woman, replied, "CIC, ready the Fortress and escorts, orders to recon the enemy fleet." On the fantail, two mighty doors slid open and two wingtips slowly came into view. Over the whine of the elevator's motors, six engines started their cadence, starting from a throaty rumble and crescendoing to the menacing howl that the Rolls Royce Hurricane radials were known for. As the elevator reached the top, the full aircraft could be seen. A large shiny silver fuselage, with the characteristic cockpit hump of the early war Boeing bombers, attached to swept back wings and tail planes. It's flanks bristled with 20mm cannon and four wing mounted 4 inch flak guns gleamed in the morning sun. The deck crew pulled pins in her airfoils which allowed her to unfold and stretch her massive wings. The B-117 pulled forward until its forward wheel locked into place on the catapult mounted in the deck. With a hiss of steam and the unearthly roar of the Hurricanes, the massive plane rumbled down the deck and lurched into the air. As soon as it left the deck, two Corsairs with floats attached to its bomb mounts were hoisted onto the flank aircraft catapults and were flung into the air with all the energy of their larger cousin. The Admiral watched from a balcony behind the bridge as the planes soared off. "Admiral, Taratupa reports that the fleet should reach our position in five hours," said a crewman.  
"Very good Seaman, give Captain Spriggs that information as well," he replied.  
"Yes sir."

The Battleship Princess cackled in delight. Not bound by any master, she, her sister, and their compatriots were free to do what they pleased. At least until some obscure Empress found them and requested that they take out some troubling human ships that were harassing her southern forces. At least this mission would take the four battleships close to their real targets. After decades, they still existed, the vaunted First Fleet. Her 20 inchers' lust for vengeance would finally be sated. After their mission was over of course. Then comes the joy of ripping apart the ships that took part in the Joint Fleet Initiative all those years ago. Two years of torture listening to First Fleet rules and procedures, two years of sailing alongside pompous bitches who couldn't even begin to match her, Kansas, the best battleship that ever sailed. Her sister ship, Nebraska, signaled her, something about faint radar returns that could possibly be planes. She wasn't worried, the Empress told her that the First Fleet was surrounded, trapped inside their own patch of ocean. The other two, Revenge and Intimidator, looked worried. If the First Fleet comes out in force to intercept us, we'll be toast, their yards arms displayed. Acting out of fear, the two Menaces started to zig-zag and pointed their valued 17 inch six gun turrets towards those despised waters. Just as Kansas was about to admonish them, the howling of aircraft engines permeated the air. All four ships and their meager defensive screen looked upwards and spotted a gleaming object far overhead.  
"The First Fleet!", Revenge screamed.  
"That's not the First Fleet, they're way too high," Nebraska snarked.  
"Still, we should begin looking out for them, we are about to skirt their territory," Intimidator said.  
"You know as well as I that if the First Fleet was out hunting for us, they would have found us by now," Nebraska snapped, "We both served with them for four months before returning to the Joint Base. Now quiet down or I'll put you on the bottom for good."

In the massive CIC, Admiral Davis and Captain Spriggs watched as the pictures came in from the deployed planes.  
"Pause," Captain Spriggs stated, "Magnify this section here." On the holographic display in the center of the room, the requested sector of footage flickered into existence. "Enhance," the Admiral ordered. As the blurred footage focused, both Captain Spriggs and the Admiral looked at each other.  
"Sir, are those ships what I think they are?", she asked.  
The Admiral sighed, "Yes, Abigail, they are. Two Kansas class and two Menace class battleships as they appeared during the Joint Fleet Initiative." The Kansas class battleships were massive, about the size of a Montana class, armed with nine 20 inch guns in three three-gun turrets and around 40 5 inch guns in dual purpose turrets. But they were tiny compared to the Menaces. Four six gun turrets mounting 17 inch long calibre rifles and a powerful secondary battery of 5 inch 54 caliber guns mounted on a hull only second in size to Texas. Scattered around the four in a loose ring appeared to be late war destroyers and light cruisers.  
"Abigail, contact the fleet, we need every available ship here asap. This will be a very bloody fight, even for Texas," Admiral Davis said.  
"Yes sir, shall I have Renegade's refit cancelled to bring her guns to the party?", Spriggs asked.  
"No, I know you miss your ship but she needs that refit badly. She's our second oldest ship, behind Nimitz, and she's been running with the same engines as she was commissioned with. Don't worry, she'll be as good as new when she completes her refit, and you can resume your command."  
"Yes sir, thank you sir. If I'm not needed, I'll go make that call and prepare Tex for whatever punishment she'll take," Spriggs stated.  
"Go," Davis said. The captain turned and walked out of the room, leaving the Admiral and the picture alone.

Texas awoke with a start. As she struggled out of her bed, radar returns surrounded her. They were faint, like a radio transmission trying to cut through a jamming signal, but she could somewhat make them out. One by one, the smaller returns vanished as if by gunfire or… missile. The four bigger returns got closer. Texas quickly grabbed her katana and got into her defensive position. As the first return got closer, she swung at it, and got air.  
"Huh?" Texas was confused, she could see the returns as if they were actually in the room, but they weren't. As suddenly as they appeared, the returns vanished, leaving only Texas wondering what was going on.

Kansas felt her throat fill with guttural rage. Within the first few minutes of spotting that infernal battleship, her defensive screen was gone, torn apart by some mystical force. She ground her teeth in pain. Whatever ship that was had hit her on the opening salvos, not to mention that pesky little plane that threw torpedoes into her side. After that, the battle degenerated into bloodshed. The youngest Menace, Intimidator, went down early from a hail of gunfire from the First Fleet ship's secondary battery. What fools, do they not know that closing with a First Fleet warship will always end in disaster? Kansas wiped the blood out from her eye and she finally identified her assailant. Texas, the flagship herself. Kansas steadied herself and brought her guns to bear on the warship that caused her so much pain. But before she could fire, Nebraska went up. A massive turret explosion ripped off her fantail and fire spread across her decks.  
"No!", Kansas screamed as the fires reached the magazine. Bathed in the light from her sister's death, she knew what she had to do.

"Sir! The last Kansas class is coming about, she looks like she's charging us," the radar operator on bridge duty exclaimed.  
"Any sign of that Menace class yet?", Captain Spriggs asked.  
"Probably is hiding behind an island," the Admiral interrupted. Guns bigger than anything else afloat once again rose to firing angle and poured down righteous fury onto the charging battleship. The shells streaked through the air until they contacted steel. Four massive explosions rocked the Kansas class, but she kept coming. Another salvo, more hits, two directly to the command tower, yet she still kept coming. The smaller, yet equally massive secondary battery turrets swung around and started their cadence, doubling the firepower brought to bear on the enemy. Hit after hit vaporized more of the Abyssal but it would not turn away. One final salvo from Texas' main battery finally ripped out the Kansas's boilers, leaving it dead in the water.  
"Sir, the Kansas class is dead in the water, should we finish her off?"  
"No, let her sink by herself. Our highest priority right now is finding that Menace class," Davis replied.  
"Sir? We won't have to." The last Abyssal slid out from behind an island, her guns aimed at the human vessel, and with a ripple of flame, its guns opened up on them.  
"Is Wave Rider in position?," Captain Spriggs asked.  
"Yes ma'am," a petty officer replied.  
"Have her put her torpedoes into that Abyssal's side," Spriggs ordered. The old bomber, lost to all since the beginning of the battle, dove out of the clouds, Hurricanes howling. One gut-wrenching pull up later and she was lined up with the battleship. Her three bomb bays opened with a hiss of hydraulics. With a rapid staccato of splashes, she unleashed her payload and turned away.

Revenge spotted the infernal plane too late. Her 5 inchers were loaded with anti surface projectiles and her 40mm and 20mm guns were not manned due to the intense firefight. She was helpless. Just like the first time. They say that history will repeat itself if one's not mindful of the past. Turns out it's true. As she watched the torpedoes speed towards her, all Revenge could do was scream.

The First Fleet arrived shortly after the Menace class Abyssal went down. Out of the eight battleships from the fleet that served in the Joint Fleet, only one had not weathered the passage of time with one other in for refit. That left six angry battleships which relished the chance to put down the twisted image of a Kansas class battleship. Kansas regained consciousness just in time to see them draw point blank, and she recognised them all. Defiant, Constellation, Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois, Montana. Kansas knew she was beaten.  
"The Menaces were right after all," she said, coughing up what would amount to blood, "The First Fleet can defeat me. All this time, why did I think differently?" The answer never came. As a wave, the six First Fleet battleships finished off the foul mockery of what was once their friend, leaving only smouldering wreckage slowly fading into the deep.

The main hold of the former battleship Conqueror was filled with Abyssals, recalled from their posts for a big operation their master was planning. All the bustle hushed as she walked into the room. Her greatcoat was burnt, holed, and torn, revealing the standard Terran Empire uniform underneath. Her face was a crisscross of scars with a snarl and an eyepatch over her right eye, one particularly huge scar running from her forehead underneath it down to her jawline. Her burned black hair was unkempt, her armored boots and gauntlets unpolished. Stopping behind the podium on the hastily erected stage, she turned her sulfur gaze over the crowd.  
"My friends," she boomed, "The time has come at last to finish off the thorns in our side. With us here today is the largest amount of fleet carriers ever assembled! With these carriers, the First Fleet will crumble into dust, and we will step onto that island conquerors! So I order you, To The Surface! Once the First Fleet is out of the way, we can sweep aside the human navies of the Pacific and install ourselves as rulers!" The crowd erupted into cheers and they started to file out.  
"Now, Admiral. Once we hit your detection grid, you'll know how many ships I'm bringing. So the first move is up to you"


	14. Phantoms

Date: 31 January, 2017

Time: 05:00 PST

Location: Naval Base Coronado, San Diego, California

As day broke over the horizon, the naval base was flooded by melody. Long and sorrowful, each note hung in the air for just a few seconds until the next replaced it. Soon, the entire base was roused as the music built to a head. Then, it was quiet. The base personnel stopped what they were doing, listening for any sort of sound. After a pause, a lone trumpet was heard, playing the same melody. It seemed all the emotion of the player was being poured into the song. As the trumpet crescendoed into the climax, everyone listening could feel the weight of the notes as they rang out. Once more, all was was silent.

Texas stood on a ridge overlooking the Pacific Ocean, her Admiral's trumpet hanging loosely from her hand, staring over the horizon. It was the First Fleet she saw, she knew that her friends and family were in danger. But once again, she was too far to do anything. One thing that stumped her was how she was able to even catch that glimpse of the fleet. Her connection to the BattleNet was nonexistent. Whenever she did connect, the only thing accessible was the historical database. While Texas was contemplating this, a stick cracked behind her. Her katana flashed into existence, its polished blade pointed directly at the person standing there. She was taller than the Standards that populated the base and her Tropical Whites were emblazoned with the First Fleet Patch, the Skull and Crossbones replacing the right flag. Her sandstone hair was unkempt and, like the rest of her, burned and frayed.  
Her voice was hoarse, but full of life,"You really think that you need to pull a sword against me?"

"Gade," Texas breathed.

"Yes, it's me," Renegade said.

"How? How are you even here?", Texas asked, "The base hasn't had a summoning ritual since I arrived."

"I'm not," she replied, "I'm merely a figment of your psyche, one of those little people which sit on your shoulder and tell you to do good or bad?"

The taller one just blinked at the Turmoil.

"Anyways, I'm here," Renegade said, her arms spread, "Anything you want to discuss?"

"No," Texas said, turning away.

"No? That's not like you, Tex. I remember that you'd die before you'd stop talking."

"I SAID I DON'T WANT TO TALK!", Texas screamed, her turrets materializing around her. Texas turned back around and let loose a salvo from Turret One.

As the smoke dissipated, the image of her friend was gone, leaving behind a scared little destroyer standing in the middle of three large, smoking craters. Instantly, any anger inside the First Fleet ship drained. Quickly searching through her ship recognition database, Texas dismissed her rigging and stepped forward.

"Why howdy," she said, kneeling down, "You're USS Blue right? DD-387?" Blue nodded.

"What brings you out here little one?", Texas asked gently. The small 1500-tonner mumbled something.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you," Texas said.

"I heard that music," Blue said, pointing to the trumpet now lying forlorn on the grass, "I wanted to hear more."

The battleship looked at the instrument, "You mean what I was just doin'?"

The destroyer nodded, "It was pretty."

"Well," Texas started.  
"Who were you talking to?", the curious little ship asked.

Texas looked back out to sea.

"No one, just my past catching up with me," she said.

"Well, maybe you should let go of your past if it's that bad," Blue suggested.

"Honey, my past is one thing that won't ever let go of me," Texas said, "Come on, someone's probably lookin' fer ya. Come on."

Texas stood, and picked up the instrument. Together, the two kanmusu walked back down to the naval base.

Author's Note  
Hey all,  
I hope you've been enjoying Texas Rising so far. So a little while back, I posted a section introducing a Japanese battleship, Satsuma. As I said when I posted that section, I'm not good with writing the Japanese ships, but I do want to expand on her story after her summoning before her next appearance in the main story arc. Any help with the Japanese cast will be appreciated. Besides that, please tell me what y'all think, any comment you guys have on my story is gladly encouraged.


	15. Imperial Conquest Pt3

Date: 2 February, 2017  
Time: 19:00 Pacific Islands  
Location: Unknown

As the sunset vanished behind the horizon, Imperial Terran Warship Conqueror felt her rage grow. Ever since she left her hull, the flashbacks that plagued her grew immensely. Her humiliation by the hands of that, American. Oh how she despised that ship. Took her away from the Empire, killed any crew that defended against her onslaught, then tossed her aside like a lame dog left for, that's what the First Fleet does. She could still see the moment where they left her for dead..

Date: 5 September, 1942  
Time: 12:00 Local Time  
Location: Taratupa Naval Base, South Pacific

As the last vestiges of water drained from the dry dock, crews were already hard at work, surveying the damage done in that last battle. One particularly nasty wound festered with thick, black fuel oil. Lights inside the ship flickered on after hours of being submerged in seawater, shining through the blasted open hole. Inside, it was a wreck. Machinery lay where it was flung, crumpled into a heap, and the massive turbine tilted menacingly off of its partially destroyed mounting. Outside on the concrete floor, two men stood, discussing the damage incurred.

"Well that's done it Admiral," Yardmaster Jones stated, "That last engagement destroyed one of the three titanium-cobalt turbine mounts. Without it, Conqueror is down two shafts and she's limited to 20 knots maximum." The Admiral looked irritated.

"Can we replace it with one made of steel?",he said.

"No sir, we would have to reforge the steel plates to the correct thickness and a replacement mount would need significant reinforcement to handle the vibration and torque from the Terran turbine," Jones explained.

The Admiral sighed,"Can't we just replace the turbine as well?"

"No, we would have to replace the entire propulsion system if we were to do that. Our replacements just aren't compatible with her system, we would have to build a custom gearbox to transfer power to the two shafts from the replacement," the Yardmaster replied. "Well Captain, what do you suggest we do with Conqueror?", the Admiral asked.

"I think we should completely gut her systems and install our equivalents in their place, but that would take at least 6 months to a year if we devote my entire shipyard force to the job," Jones said.

"We can't afford to halt construction on the Montanas, Captain. Give me a time estimate on Conqueror if you have 1100 men working on her," the Admiral ordered.

"Sir, it would be 5-6 years with that small of a workforce, It would be better to build a whole new ship than a refit of that magnitude," he said.

The Admiral paused for a moment, thinking. With the destruction of Renegade four months ago, and the disabling hit that Conqueror took, he was down two battleships. If the damage was repaired, Conqueror would still be out of the war for 5 years. By then, the Montanas and Defiants would be in service and there wouldn't be a use for the captured Terran warship. He had to cut his losses.

"Well, that leaves me with no choice. Strip her of any useful materials and systems, take her guns and turn them into shore batteries. After that, turn her into a gunnery target. If there is anything left after we test Texas' new shells, melt it down and turn it into raw materials," He said.

"Aye sir. To be honest, I'm glad I won't be burdened with trying to repair her over engineered hull again, that last time was a nightmare. If only the Terran Empire designed their ships with ease of repair in mind," Jones replied.

A thought popped into the Admiral's head, "Captain."

"Yes sir?"

"Is there enough materials not devoted to the Montanas to build another Turmoil?", he asked.

"I believe so sir," came the answer.

"Excellent, I want work to start tomorrow. I'm thinking Resolute would be a good name, don't you think?", Admiral Davis said.

"Yes, sir. She should be done within two years, the Turmoil hull is relatively simple and there are many things that I can simplify while keeping the combat effectiveness," Jones said.

"Captain, I don't care what you change to the Turmoil design or how simple it may be, I just need another battleship. Is that clear?", the Admiral said.

"Yes sir! Perfectly sir!"

"Then get to it, I want this wreckage out of as soon as possible," the Admiral said before he walked away.

"My Lord," said a voice.

Conqueror snapped out of the flashback.

"What do you want!" she said.

The Ta-class battleship cowered, "My Lord, I just wanted to tell you that we are a hundred nautical miles out from First Fleet territory." A feral grin crossed the Terran's face.

"Excellent," she growled. Conqueror looked over her rigging, rusted and damaged it may be. "And now I shall reclaim what is mine," she said, the seven empty barbettes in her rigging, pitch black pits yearning for their guns.


	16. Shattered

Date: 2 February, 2017

Time: 06:00 PST

Location: Off the California Coast

As day broke, the thunder of major caliber rifles and the pak-pak of smaller weapons still raged over the sea. From Naval Base Coronado in San Diego, the battle was told only in the radio communications.

"Jersey to Nevada, watch your flank. It looks like the fuckers might be tryin' to get around us."

"Roger, I'm bringing my line back around to regroup with the center force. DesRon, can you provide some cover? Those flankers seem to not have radar."

"Blue to Nevada, we only have one smoke canister left each, it won't be much cover but if you can get your line turning now, it'll do."

"Anyone see that new ship we got a couple weeks ago? We could use a few more guns."

"Can it Pheonix, this is the largest assault made by the Abyssals on our forces to date, we need to focus."

The small destroyer squadron, headed by Blue, weaved through Nevada's battle line and popped their screens, shielding the Standards from the Abyssal battleships that they were fighting. The six superdreadnoughts made a tight turn back towards the center of the Pacific Fleet and slowly started to make their way back.

"Coronado to Jersey, we're sending you reinforcements. They should be there within a few minutes."

"That's just fucking awesome, you took this long to tell me? Who are you sending?"

"Battleship Texas and two cruisers, Alaska and Baltimore."

"Why the fuck are you sending me another dreadnought? We've already got too many in this fight."

Static cut into the channel then a southern drawl spoke, "Lone Star to Jersey, I've got inbound ordinance. Clear the left flank now."

"Who the fuck got onto our comms?"

"Listen, I've got 270 tons of explosives in the air heading towards that flank as we speak so why don't you quit complaining and get your ass in gear before I do it for you. Understood?"

"Jersey, you better follow her instructions."

"And why should I fucking do that?"

"She heavily outranks you."

"What?"

"Yeah, Mex is right, she's got at least three paygrades on you."

Just then, smoke trails streaked overhead. The howling of the projectiles slicing through the air was enough to fill an Abyssal's heart with dread.

"Holy fucking shit. Get that flank cleared now!", Jersey boomed.

Not long after, the massive hunks of steel tore into the Abyssal force savaging the fast battleship divisions. The massive swarm of heavy combatants was decimated by the near synchronous detonations of all the shells. Out of a force of twenty Battleship Princesses, only four remained unscathed.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit"

"I sure hope that flank was clear before those hit, otherwise it's on you," came that southern accent.

Just then, Jersey's radar picked up a massive hulk speeding to the right flank and the besieged Standards. The thunder of powerful rifles boomed over the horizon as multiple, smaller returns broke off from the battleship and sped towards their targets.

"Lone Star to Standards, link up with 'Laska and Baltimore and get back to the main body, I'll take it from here."

Out of the smoke screen waded Texas, her eight-inch guns ablaze. Her six massive turrets slowly aligned with their next target,and with the fury of a thousand atom bombs, sent one more enemy back to Davy Jones' Locker. The Abyssals, now realizing the threat less than ten miles away, started to pound the battleship with every single bit of weaponry they possessed. Texas deftly maneuvered out of the way and charged into the fray. Her six turrets thundered together once more then they slowly locked onto separate targets. Jersey lost the massive warship once she dove into the enemy horde. A horde that was steadily getting smaller.

"That fucking battleship is batshit crazy," she said.

Alaska, arriving with the Standards in tow, laughed, "Jer, she took on a Battleship Princess by herself and won. Of course she's crazy."

-

"My Lord," a Wo-Class called, "We are within striking distance of Taratupa. The sub which managed to infiltrate their harbor reports that the fleet just returned and has their guard down."

Battleship Conqueror grinned. "Launch the strike, wipe them off the planet."

-

Back on the left flank, Texas had just finished off the last of the lighter craft, leaving only the Ta and Re class battleships left. She pulled her sword from its sheath and pointed it towards them.

"Your move," she said. They were so predictable. Fire rippled across the enemy line, soon followed by the whooshing of shells. Most of the shells shattered against the thick armor, but one shell hit a gun shield on Turret Three. As Texas returned fire, that gun exploded out of its mounting and went pinwheeling through the air, leaving a massive, smoking hole in the turret.

Texas cried in pain, "DamCon, fire in Turret Three!" The remaining five turrets swung about and boomed again.

Suddenly, she was on her own deck. Looking around, she saw that they were in Taratupa. Then Texas noticed what was happening. Planes swarmed the lagoon, Corsairs and Abyssals alike. Smoke billowed from the slipways as valuable construction material was lit on fire. The chatter of anti-aircraft fire could barely be heard over the howling of aircraft locked in intense dogfights. As she watched on, both Turmoil and Defiant took torpedo hits from the attacking aircraft. Then, she saw it. A single plane buzzed over Renegade sitting in drydock, her AA guns silent. Even from this distance, Texas could see that her ammunition handling equipment was still opened up, as if the attack interrupted the unloading process. A single bomb dropped from the Abyssal and straight into the wide open ammunition doors.

"NO!", Texas screamed. Then, her world shattered. Renegade was consumed by the explosion, the shockwave sending planes tumbling through the air. Texas staggered.

"no," she whispered, "No. NOOOOOOO!" Her anti-aircraft guns exploded into a fervor, wiping enemy planes out of the air. Then she was back in the battle, the remaining Ta and Re class ships surrounding her.

"NO _ **OOO!"**_ , she roared and the ships disintegrated under a hailstorm of explosives.

New Jersey watched her radar screens as the superbattleship sped towards the enemy's main force. As she passed, Jersey could see the anger in her eyes. Texas tore through the Abyssal fleet, her guns constantly in a state of recoil and gunsmoke following her like a shadow. All the allied ships could do was stare as she fought alone. Within minutes, all the Abyssals were destroyed, and Texas was speeding off towards the horizon, her funnel belching black smoke as she poured on the speed.

"Jersey to Texas, just what the hell do you think you're going?", the Iowa asked.

A voice, hoarse and foreign, replied, _**"I will make them pay. I will make them all pay for what they did."**_ And radio communications were cut.

-

"All ships pull back," said a Ta-class battleship, turning away from their target.

"Ta-376, what do you think you're doing?", asked Conqueror.

"My Lord, the attack by our carriers only managed to destroy one of the First Fleet's ships and the rest are reforming for an attack on our position. They'll all be out of the harbor within the hour and intercepting us before nightfall," the Abyssal in question replied, "We failed our mission and now we've become the hunted. I would think that you, personally, would like to stay alive to make sure that the Fleet is defeated instead of sinking without even firing a-" The rest of the sentence was cut off by a sword slicing through Ta-376's throat, blue blood spraying everywhere.

"I don't run," Conqueror growled, "Empress to all ships, recall your planes and return to base. We've done enough for today."


	17. A Pirate's Life For Me

Date: 3 February,2017  
Time: 13:00 Eastern Time  
Location: Naval Base Norfolk, Virginia, USA

"Oh, and make sure she has plenty of supplies, you know how hungry a ship like her can get", the phone said.

"Jersey, I know. She is my ship after all. Whisky's going to be fine. It's only going to be a four day patrol down the seaboard and back," Captain Gordon Perry replied, "If it matters that much to you, I'll see what I can do about getting you on board for one patrol."

"Great!", the phone exclaimed, "I can't wait!"

Just then, Perry's executive officer walked up.

"Listen, Jersey," Perry interrupted, "I have to go, Whisky sails in a matter of hours and there's things I need to be doing besides talking to you."

Perry hung up before the Iowa could reply, and, with a chuckle, turned to the man. Returning the salute he was given, the captain asked one word, "Ready?"

"Sir, even Whisky herself wants to get out there and see what we can do against these Abyssals. Hell, she may even go out of her way to find a few enemy targets to shoot at," the XO replied. Both men started walking to the gangplank which proudly displayed "USS Wisconsin BB-64" on its side.

"Jim, have you ever known a ship to do such a thing?", Perry asked.

"Well, sir. I don't know for sure, but the Cook seemed to attract too much attention to us during her life," Jim replied.

"That she did, didn't she? At least, in her final moments, she was able to save her crew from their watery graves," Perry said solemnly.

"Well, let's hope our new ship doesn't have that knack of getting us into trouble," Jim said.

Perry gestured to the gangplank, "Well, Mr. Newman. Get my ship ready to sail. Make sure that the chief knows that we'll be performing some engine tests during the patrol. She seemed a little faint compared to other ships."

"Yes sir," Jim replied.

Perry stared at the battleship, burning every edge, every sheet of metal into his memory, "Well, old timer, let's get this show on the road."

-  
Darkness. Peace at last. For seventy-five years, she had sailed with the best, and for two decades before that, she had waited for the call. Her guns commanded respect from everyone, including the flagship, and no one dare defy them. Her belt had withstood the most determined gunfire her enemies could throw and more. Senator Tillman would be proud. One of his battleships survived for almost a century before finally meeting her end. A renegade battleship, not even the Naval Treaties could get a hold on her. A call resonated through the darkness. A call punctuated by the sound of her own guns, booming desperately. Her long deserved retirement could wait, her fellow countrymen needed help. What better help could there be but a pirate, an outlaw of her time?

Date: 5 February, 2017  
Time: 13:00 Eastern Time  
Location: Off the East Coast, United States

"Contact! Bearing 240!"

"Watch that destroyer! She's comin' around for another pass!"

"Fire! Fire in Mount 6!"

"Medical Team to the Fantail, we have wounded!"

"USS Wisconsin to any friendly vessel, we're under attack by a large Abyssal force and we require assistance. I repeat, this is the USS Wiscons-"

"Sir, the radio just went dead," a crew member reported.

Captain Perry slammed his fist down onto the plotting table in frustration. Nothing his crew could do was able to stop the inevitable. Her first cruise, cut short by a typical Abyssal patrol. He had to make the call, fight on and send two thousand to their deaths fighting, or swing Wisky's long, slender bow around, try to make it to land, and save as many lives as he could. After an eternity, he made up his mind.

"Helm, bring us around. Make for land, flank speed."

The helmsman turned, "Sir?"

"We'll beach her if we have to, but right now, the lives of my crew outweigh the cost for victory. Now, bring us around," Perry said. The battleship groaned as she swung about, until an explosion flung the crew into the bulkheads.

Wincing in pain from the long cut across his forehead, Perry yelled, "Report!" The DamCon officer posted to the bridge conferred with his teams spread out throughout the mighty vessel.

"Sir, we've taken a torpedo to the stern. Both rudders have been destroyed and there are large amounts of water pouring into the engineering sections. DamCon teams are responding, but I don't know how much good they will do."

"Get the Engine Room on the horn, we'll steer with the props. Helm, you'll be the one responsible for getting this ship back on course to land," Perry ordered, "Someone, please tell the idiots in the CIC that we're trying to hit the enemy, not give them a bath."

Several affirmatives were heard in reply and once again, the old Iowa started to swing around, although this time, it was at a slower rate. The three massive turrets boomed and balls of fire appeared on the Abyssal destroyers trying to throw more torpedoes into Wisconsin's side.

*BLAM, BLAM, BLAM*

The first turret fired again, throwing its cargo into another target, hitting the enemy cruiser's bridge. The guns lowered to their reloading position just as the second turret tasted blood. Two shells bit into one of the Abyssal heavy cruisers and tore a fiery gash along its length.

"Enemy sub surfacing off the starboard bow!", a lookout screamed.

Perry sprinted over to the bridge windows just in time to see several black, rusty hooks latch onto the railings lining the forecastle with ropes black with grime trailing overboard. Up these ropes came Wo-class carriers, Re-class battleships, and dozens of other Abyssal types.

"Attention All Hands, arm yourselves. We've been boarded."

All of a sudden, bolts of lightning struck three of the boarders, turning them to ash. Something at the corner of his caught Perry's attention. A large cloud was forming just above the ocean's surface, electric-blue bolts of energy lashing out from inside.

"What the-," Newman started to ask, but a large noise cut him off.

*Ba **BABA** Ba **BO** Bo **BOOM** **BOOMBABOOMBOOM** *

Streaks of smoke flew out of the cloud and massive splashes spout up near the Abyssal force. The ships in the water became a frenzied mass of metal as each one started evasive maneuvers to avoid being hit.

"Sir! Look!", the helmsman said.

Out of the fog sailed two Gearing class destroyers, their fantails spewing grey smoke. The pair sailed straight for awhile before cutting their smoke and turned towards the enemy. Perry could see the numbers 891 and 926 painted on the destroyers' dark grey hulls. As they passed the stricken battleship, their anti-aircraft guns raked her deck, slashing through the hordes of Abyssal soldiers.

*PakPak PakPak PakPak*

The two destroyers lept into the fray, their 5 inchers blazing away at any enemy ship within range. The bridge crew looks on in amazement as the pair withered down ships which their ship fired at for hours with no effect.

*Boom **BOOM** Boom **BOOM** BOOM **BOOM** *

The massive thunder came again, and as the streaks of smoke flew through the smoke, Perry caught a glimpse of another ship. A bigger one, much bigger. With a hail of cracks, a shower of small projectiles flew towards the Abyssals, joining the fire of the two Gearings. As the smoke screen lifted, the ship fired again.

* **BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM** *

White wisps of smoke shot from the muzzles of the gun barrels as the four six-gun turrets returned their weapons to their reloading angle. The ship was large, longer than the Iowa class, and just as wide. Its straight bow,sharply angled forward, lead a perfectly straight deck, on top of which sat the four massive turrets and an Iowa-esque superstructure. Casemate guns and five dual turrets lined her sides and pakked away as the bigger guns let their presence be known once more. The battleship came closer and closer to Wisconsin and Perry's eyes grew wide.

"All hands, brace for impact!", he yelled into the intercom.

Then, the battleship faded and a figure was seen riding the waves, still on an intercept course with the sinking warship. With a great leap, the figure landed on the deck, sending a visible ripple down its length. Dressed in Summer Whites with a Jolly Roger wrapped around her left bicep and a tricorne hat perched on top of her sandy blonde hair, which was tied in loose ponytail, the woman reached to her back and pulled out two arrows to notch in her bow. Letting them fly, she slung the bow over her head, pulled out two cutlasses and sprinted down the forecastle towards the Abyssals trying to blast their way into Wisky's insides. The arrows struck first, exploding on contact, killing five of the group and injuring several others, then the battleship came. Flashes of steel and the screams of pain were the only indications of what was happening in the melee. A shot of gunfire rang out and the last of the boarders fell to its knees with a bullet hole through the skull. The corpse flopped to the wooden deck with a thud and the figure stepped over the dead cruiser. The woman holstered her flintlock and walked over to the railing to see her comrades dump torpedoes into the last remaining Abyssal cruiser. With a signal lamp, she called her destroyers in and they soon joined her on deck just as Perry arrived.

"Alright, what's going on here? I want to know who you three are," he said. One of the smaller girls started to say something, but the woman stopped her.

"No, Finch. I'll introduce us to the Captain," she said, "Captain, I'm USS Renegade, designation BB-50, and these two are the destroyers USS McBain,DD-891," pointing to the slightly taller one with the thin face, "and USS R. Brady Finch, DD-926," Renegade set her hand on the right shoulder of the girl with the black glasses.

"Where did you three come from?", Perry asked, "Wait, no. I don't even want to know. Just.. thank you for saving our asses."

Just then, a sailor walked up. "Sir," she said, "The chief says that the flooding's increased dramatically. He says that we will probably have to abandon ship before the flooding makes her unstable."

Renegade spoke up, "Sir, we can help fix this. Finch, McBain, I want Damcon Parties out helping fix this ol' gal up now."

"Yes Ma'am," they chorused and dozens of faires poured into the ship's superstructure. Perry watched in amazement, he didn't know that shipgirls could send out their crew to help repair an actual ship.

Renegade turned towards him, "As a fellow Captain, I would like to ask if you require assistance in getting your ship back to port?"

Perry glanced at the battleship's ranks and then replied, "Yes. Yes, we need the help, if the condition of the deck is any example."

Renegade turned towards the two Gearings. After a few moments of silence, the pair jumped overboard and started to tow the ship back to safety. The battleship herself just stepped into the interior of the battered Wisconsin and started walking away.

"Hold up," Perry said. Renegade turned back towards him, her green eyes piercing through the shadows.

"What just happened? You three never said a word to each other and the next thing you know, there's already a plan."

"Oh, right," the battleship said, "I forgot this isn't the Fleet. We use an interface called the BattleNet which allows our systems to communicate important data to each other. It's much faster and more efficient than radio or signal flags." And with that, the kanmusu turned and journeyed farther into the depths of Perry's ship.

"Well then, I guess that's everything answered?", Perry asked his XO.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Newman replied.


	18. Revelation

-*Breaking News*-

"Conventional War outdated? We ask this question after the USS Wisconsin, currently the only active steel battleship in service, returned home earlier today after an encounter with Abyssal forces. We go live to our correspondent coming from the Naval Base in Norfolk."

"Thanks, Rachel," the reporter said, "This footage, shot earlier today, show the battleship Wisconsin returning home, heavily damaged and under two from two destroyers. Also present was another battleship which we're having problems identifying. Reports from eyewitnesses at the pier where the Wisconsin tied up say that when the ship was secure, the destroyers dropped their tow and all three mysterious vessels vanished. This was taken from an interview with Captain Gordon Perry, commanding officer of the USS Wisconsin:"

"Then there they were, fighting to protect the ship. They even managed to repel the force the Abyssals had managed to get aboard."

"Who were these...rogue ships?"

"I can't answer that at this time, the Navy's still trying to figure it themselves. But whoever they were, they saved over two thousand Americans, is that proof enough of who's side they're on?"

"This event has raised more questions than it has answered. Could there very well be rogue ships out there?"

Date: 7 Feb,2017

Time: 16:00 Eastern Time

Location: Naval Base Norfolk

The battleship silently stared down range at the array of targets. She closed her eyes and took in a breath. When they opened again, the old eyes glinted with internal fire and she raised her beloved weapon. The aged wood creaked as she slowly pulled the worn bowstring back. *thwip* The arrow flew through the air, finally imbedding itself into a bullseye. Slinging the bow over her shoulder, the woman retrieved the arrow and returned to the firing line.

Just as she was about to shoot again, a voice came from behind her, "You do know that the Carrier ranges are the next ones over right?"

Standing there was a woman of short stature in a blood red, ankle length dress with two 5 inch twin turrets resting on her hips. Her brown eyes gleamed with friendliness as she asked again. The taller woman brushed back her sandy hair and pulled the bow from her shoulders. Reaching over her back, she drew out an arrow with fiery red fletching from the quiver on her back. Drawing the bow to full strength, the woman turned back to the targets and loosed the shot. As soon as the arrow passed the bow limb, fire and smoke appeared and the blast knocked West Virginia to the floor. Coughing from the dust, the battleship got back on her feet only to see six of the targets with burning holes in them and the sound of thunder rolling over the hills.

"Does that look som'in' a carrier could do?", her worn voice asked. Not waiting for a reply, the Tillman walked over to a table where a polished wooden case sat open and set the bow and quiver inside.

Closing the case with a soft click, the battleship turned around and addressed the Standard, "Y'know where the galley's at?"

Finally finding her voice, West Virginia blurted out, "Just who the hell are you?"

Renegade slung the case over her shoulder, positioned so that the Skull and Crossbones burned into the wood were visible, and started to walk out of the shooting range. West Virginia jogged after the warship, "Hold on, Hold on. You never answered my question. So I'll say it again, just who or what the bloody hell are you?"

Renegade snapped around and slowly advanced on Virginia, "Listen, who I am or what 'm doin' is none of your concern. I was brought back for one reason, to save that pathetic excuse for an Iowa-class Battlecruiser. Now, I'm going to resupply in the mess hall and if ya try ta stop me from doin' that or anything else, I'll send that puny Colorado-class ass of yours straight back to December Seventh, ya hear?"

At that moment, two mean-looking destroyers appeared on either side of the enraged Tillman, their fists repeatedly smacking into the opposite palms. West Virginia spluttered out how to get to the base's dining facilities and the trio stopped their advance.

"That's better. Finch, McBain, come. We have a long trip in front of us," Renegade said. Renegade picked up her tricorne from the table by the entrance and then turned back to West Virginia.

"Oh, also. If you feel you really need to tell someone about what happened here, name's Blackbeard," she said before leaving.

"The media's going to have a field day with this one," Virginia sighed.

"She's coming back around!"

"Halsey look out!"

"She's too much! We can't withstand that battleship's fi- glj^$&"

"Ahh-khthou#%..."

"Pearl, this is Halsey. We've lost the Murphy. Down to thr- fgajkgt%^*"

"Halsey, This is Pearl. Come in please. Halsey, come in."

"This is Lawrence! Halsey's gone! That crazed battleship's wiping us out! Send reinforce- tsjy%$ji"

"

Once out of sight, Renegade collapsed onto the ground, grabbing her head. In her mind, she could see flashes of battle, she could smell the powder burning, and feel the heat of fires raging unchallenged. She groaned as intense emotion overwhelmed her computer core's firewall. She felt the anger, felt the loss weighing her down, and she felt the hatred, the desire for revenge. Whispers, growing louder, intruded into what she was experiencing.

"Gade. Gade! Come on, wake up!"

Silver eyes snapped open to Finch's round face taking up most of their vision. Renegade groaned as she got back to her feet.

"What happened? Is everything alright?", Finch pestered.

"Hey birdbrain," McBain said, "Let 'er speak before this becomes a Level 14 thing."

"It's Star isn't it?," Finch asked.

"Finch, McBain. Yes, it's the flagship. No, I don' know what's going on," Renegade stated, "The best thing we can do is try to force the Canal and expedite our journey."

The lock on the backdoor of the mess hall was easy to break. Fifteen seconds after breaking in, the three were at the pantries.

"Take only what you need you two," Renegade whispered, "We'll put into one of the west coast bases to restock for the Pacific leg."

The two Gearings poked their heads out of the pile of empty food wrappers and boxes that they had apparently already eaten through, their cheeks bulging like a squirrel's. They mumbled affirmatives and then dove back into the pile. Renegade just sighed and sent out her supply fairies to fill up her aching fuel bunkers and stores with something. The Tillman leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, relishing the euphoria of replenishment. Her ship's clock only indicated fifteen minutes had passed when Renegade's hydrophone picked up something unusual happening in the eating area. Cracking open her eyes, she sent one of her F4U Corsair fighter-scouts to take a discreet look. The tiny plane somehow managed to perch itself, undetected, on one of the exposed trusses in the dining room and started to relay back audio.

"Lock down the building. Find the intruders. All force is authorized. West Virginia reported two hostile destroyers and an uncertain battleship," a voice was saying. Anything else that was said was overwhelmed by the commotion of the mess hall occupants scrambling to try to find the infiltrators.

Calling back the plane, Renegade's eyes snapped open and her crew snapped to General Quarters. All her deployed supply officers rushed back to her waiting palm and her bow snapped into existence. This got the attention of Finch and McBain.

"What's wrong?", Finch yelled.

McBain smacked the back of her sister's head, "Quiet! What's wrong?"

Renegade just notched an arrow and put a finger to her lips. The big commotion was growing louder, closer.

"Shit! We've been made!", McBain said, "I knew we shouldn't have let that battleship go free."

Renegade just held out her palm and out walked two fully armed Marines. Moving her hand near the door, Renegade set the fairies down to scout. Almost immediately, she grabbed them back up and drew back the arrow.

"Back here! The door's busted!"

As the sounds of boots hitting the floor grew closer, Renegade aimed her bow at the opposite wall and let the arrow fly. The resulting explosion blew out the wall and sent a cloud of dust through the entire building.

"Come on!", Renegade yelled to the destroyers as she jumped through the hole. Sirens began to whine all over the base as the trio sprinted towards the docks.

"There they are!", yelled an officer, "Don't let them escape!"

Two battleships rounded the corner in front of Renegade, unaware of what was happening. As realization dawned in one of the two's eyes, the other was floored by a left hook. The first ship managed to summon her rigging before promptly joining her comrade unconscious on the ground via twin Gearing tackle. All three summoned their gear as they reached the docks.

"Well, this could have gone better," Finch exclaimed.

"Just shut up and get into the water," McBain snapped.

"Stop bick'rin', both of you. Now, get going!", Renegade roared, two of her turrets rotating backwards to provide cover fire. The turrets boomed as the base security force came into view, spraying up dirt in front of them. Another shot knocked the massive door leading into the shipgirl launching area off its track, jamming it. Seeing her escorts safely away, Renegade jumped onto the water and slowly steamed out of the harbor.

Her radar showing no signs of pursuit, Renegade could get back to managing her escorts who, as they always seem to be doing, were arguing again.

"It was your fault they found us!", McBain yelled.

"But who's the one that caught the attention of the searchers again?," Finch retorted.

"That's enough! Finch, we all played a part and McBain, I'm taking away your ice cream ration," Renegade said.

"But why?", McBain whined.

"For saying 'Shit' back there. It's not nice," Renegade explained, "Now come on, we have a big journey ahead of us."


	19. Imperial Conquest Pt 4

Date: 8 Feb, 2017

Time: 00:35 Pacific Islands Time

Location: Undetermined

The old warship was a hive of activity. Wo-Class carriers, Ta and Re class battleships and dozens of different cruisers and destroyers ran about, updating charts and fleet manifests. There was no place in the shattered hulk that was silent, not even the bridge where the Empress was most of the time. Another radio report came in, and the corresponding Abyssal forces were marked out in red, then another report, more blood on the ledger. Everyone in the Command Center froze when the Empress walked in. Everything was silent, not even the old hulk made a noise or leaked water like it did the rest of the time.

"Report", she said.

One of the Re-class, its heavily armored tail twitching like mad, cleared her throat, "My Lord, the unknown force continues to push into our territory. Nothing we do seems to slow her down and she is impervious to damage. We've lost half of the Eastern Pacific fleets already."

At this moment, one of the Abyssals, Wo-781, spoke, "My Lord, one of our subs just reported that the unknown force took out 4 of the American destroyers stationed at their forward base in the islands, and that it's heading this way." The Empress turned around, her armored boots screeching across the rusted floor.

After a few moments of burning a hole through Wo-781 with her toxic, fire-filled gaze, she spoke, "Ready the First and Fourth Fleets as well as the Imperial Guard. Deploy the Fourth to the south with the First acting as reinforcements. The Guard will be the last resort before that ship reaches Central Command and our secret project in the Solomons."

With a growl, the Empress grated, " Send envoys out to the other regional commands requesting forces to shore up our defenses only until we can rebuild the Fifth through Eighth Fleets." The room was silent as the Abyssals stared at the Empress.

"Are you deaf!", she roared, slamming the Re-class from before into the bulkhead as she stretched out her arms, "Get to work! Before I have the mind to kill you all."

One of the Wo-Class carriers, her usually pale skin now sheet white, called out, "My Lord, the First Fleet's broken through our blockade. They're on the attack!"

The room once again fell silent, and all eyes were on the Empress.

After a weighted silence, she spoke, "Ta-758, take the Imperial Guard and intercept the force attacking our eastern forces. Send every other ship to force the First Fleet back into their small patch of ocean, they cannot be allowed free reign, or the endgame would already be upon us."

The Ta-class battleship in question stepped forward, "It'll be done, my Lord."

The Empress turned around to face the Wo-Class who gave the unfortunate news, "You, come with me."

The Abyssal gulped and shakily stood, setting down her headset on the table. With a swish of her greatcoat, the Empress left the room, the scared Wo-Class in tow. A few seconds later, a bloodcurdling scream echoed down the hallway, followed by the crunching of bones and the splattering of blood against the metal decks.


	20. Flashback: December 7, 1941

Date: 7 December, 1941  
Time: 13:00 Local Time  
Location: Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

Smoke billowed from the battleships of the Pacific Fleet, sunken at their moorings. Admiral Rogers stared at the scene in disbelief, the might of the US in the Pacific destroyed in their own fortress. Just hours after the attack, repair crews were already at work rescuing those trapped within the burning hulls.  
"Yes, Yeoman, what is it?", he asked.  
The yeoman didn't have to answer, for it showed itself. Through the oily clouds of smoke, Rogers spotted a ship entering the harbor. It was painted Navy Blue overall, with gold main gun muzzles and number 1 emblazoned on the side of her bow. As he looked on, several boats were lowered from the ship, each one filled with men sailing towards Battleship Row. This new arrival was massive, her sleek hull form, similar to the new Iowa class currently under construction, was countered by the sharp angles of gun turrets and armored superstructure. As the ship dropped anchor, the loud sound of ripping metal filled the air. The leaning tower of the Arizona collapsed, trapping men in its wreckage. Many screams were heard from the rescue party that once floated by her conning tower, but those soon died off. The death toll continued to rise throughout the day as men, trapped within steel coffins, died. By 17:00, Rogers was in shock, over 2000 American deaths had occurred. He retired to his office to contemplate the tragedy that unfolded before his eyes.  
"Sir, the Admiral is here to see you," his Yeoman called.  
"S-S-Send him in," he responded.  
"Aye Sir." Rogers stood as the Admiral entered his office.  
"Admiral Davis," he said.  
"At ease Rogers," Admiral Davis said, " I've spoken with the President. He has ordered the First Fleet to war."  
"So it has really come to it then?", Rogers asked.  
"Yes, it has. But before we get around to organizing the remaining forces in the Pacific, I have a job for you."  
"What is it Sir?"  
"There's an old tramp steamer sailing around in the Southern Pacific Islands, its commander is Quinton McHale. I want him commissioned, he knows those islands better than anyone. Find him. You have 3 weeks."  
"Aye Sir," Rogers replied.  
"This war, I fear it may be the end of peace as we know it," the Admiral sighed.  
"It may be Sir, but we will still defend our homeland. With spears and boulders if it comes to it."  
"Well, I'm glad you think that way Bruce, it may be our only reason to survive the coming storm," the Admiral said.  
Then, Admiral Rogers was alone, fires outside casting orange light into his office.


	21. Flashback: August 28,1943

Date:28 August,1943

Time: 21:00 Local Time

Location: 150 nm west of the Marshall Islands

The massive formation sailed through the skies, their engines droning.

"Watch out for Jap planes, we're entering their territory."

"Any spot on the fleet we harassed earlier?"

"Nothing yet. Wait. Contact! Bearing 10 o'clock low!"

Through the break in the cloud cover, wakes were seen accompanied by black smoke. "Alright boys. Let's send these Japs back to where they came from!"

The lead bomber nosed over into a steep dive, its six engines rumbling. The rest of the formation followed suit, squadron after squadron of bombers screaming through the air. As they dove, black puffs of smoke began to appear around them.

"They've seen us. Make every shot count."

The flak thickened as the Fortresses closed, the ships growing bigger in their windscreens. One by one, the planes leveled off, leaving the lead plane. Soon, it too began to level off, engines roaring. With a great splash, the plane's belly hit the ocean, slowing it. From front to back, the three bomb bays opened in sequence. It closed with its target, a massive battleship responsible for holding back the Allied forces. It was listing heavily, smoke and fire pouring from multiple shell hits. Geysers erupted around the bomber as the battleship's anti-surface weapons opened up. A torpedo rack was lowered from the third bay, its payload gleaming.

*SPLASH*

Three torpedoes were discharged into the ocean and raced towards the target. The bomber pulled up, barely clearing the battleship's deck. As it passed, the American plane released the contents of the other bays: 20 1 Ton bombs. Almost simultaneously, the ordinance met the ship. Balls of fire erupted across its deck, soon smothered by water thrown upwards by the torpedo hits. Almost immediately, the ship ground to a halt. All around the stricken warship, similar instances were happening as the screening ships were sunk. Then, with a great heave, the battleship exploded, blowing its deck and sides outward. The explosion jostled the retreating planes, and engulfed the destroyers pulling alongside. Throughout the formation, sound of celebration were heard as the Soaring Eagles returned to their carrier. Each plane gracefully touched down on her deck, arresting wires bringing them to a stop. As they landed, one bomber remained in the air. It banked towards another equally massive battleship and deployed its landing floats. Her engines spluttered and died, leaving the plane on a glide slope. Its pilots weren't worried. To them, this was routine. The plane touched down near the battleship. As the ship passed, a large crane attached to them and pulled the plane aboard. As the plane hit the deck, service crews swarmed around it. They unlocked the hatches, swinging them open. The aircrew slid out, celebrating their kill. A figure stood there, watching. The pilot strode over, stopping a few feet in front of him.

"Admiral," he said, giving a perfect salute.

The Admiral replied in kind, "I suppose the mission went well?"

"Yes Sir. We got the Satsuma. She shouldn't be a problem to the fleets now."

"Good Job. I expect a full briefing by tomorrow afternoon," the Admiral stated.

"I will have one to you by tonight, sir."

"Also, I want a full compilation of ships sunk in that report."

"Understood sir."

"Get back to your crew and take the night off, you've earned it. Dismissed."

The pilot gave another salute, and walked away.


	22. The Search Begins

Date: 16 Feb, 2017

Time: 09:00 PST

Location: Naval Station Coronado, San Diego, California

The base was quiet. Base personnel moved about doing their duties, but no shipgirl antics were happening, much to everyone's relief. This was due to Admiral Dougherty ordering them to the briefing room to start the search for Texas now that everyone was repaired enough for duty. Coronado's entire shipgirl force milled about talking to one another until Dougherty walked in.

"Attention on Deck!", California cried.

Everyone present snapped to attention as Dougherty walked over to the podium on stage. Once he got his papers situated, Dougherty said to the crowd, "Take your seats."

After a brief moment, Dougherty started his presentation. A diagram of the battle two weeks ago was displayed on the screen behind him.

"I'm sure you're all familiar with this, the battle on our doorstep two weeks ago. Well, we lost a valuable member of our fleet here, battleship Texas. Given recent events in Norfolk, we think we know why Texas went AWOL."

The screen then changed to a still from one of Norfolk's news stations showing a large battleship with four six-gun turrets flanked by two Gearing class destroyers.

Dougherty continued his briefing, "Given testimony from Captain Gordon Perry of the Wisconsin, this ship here is one of Texas' fleet's. We think that this ship was destroyed and that's what provoked Texas. Now, we don't know where this ship is currently as she and her escorts fought their way out of Norfolk Naval Base where they were resupplying. No one was injured during the fight but Norfolk's operations were crippled due to equipment damage. These three ships are the wild card in our operations as they were last seen forcing their way through the Panama Canal."

The slideshow changed to show a photo of the three ships in one of the canal locks.

"From what intelligence we have, these ships are used to working covertly. They are considered dangerous but they are not hostile to any US flagged vessel. Attempt to contact them if they are spotted during the search, but SecNav has given an order that Japanese ships, if they help in the search, must not be the one to contact them. To be honest, I'm not sure that even trying to contact them will result in peaceful exchanges of information, American or otherwise, but I expect you to do your best," Dougherty said, "Now onto the search party assignments. South Dakota, you have the stage."

From the second row, an average height woman with bright blonde hair stood up. Straightening out her knee-length black sundress, she walked up to the podium. After getting her papers situated, her emerald eyes swept the room.

"Alright, listen up, I'll only be sayin' this once," she said with a voice like honey, "There will be two forces deploying from Naval Station Coronado to search for Texas. I'm sorry but Admiral Williams up in Washington State can't afford to send more of you out. Now, the two forces will be headed by myself and Enterprise will."

The rest of South Dakota's sentence was drowned out by everyone seated starting to talk when they heard the name Enterprise.

"Hey now, calm down," South Dakota said.

Soon the chatter died down and Dakota could continue her briefing, "Now, as I was saying, Enterprise will be coming down from Alameda to lead the other force. The following ships will be assigned to her: Blue's DesRon 5, Houston, Phoenix, Alaska, Baltimore, with New Jersey and Washington coming down on loan from Everett. Bat Div 3 will be with me along with Quincy, Honolulu, and DesRons 2 and 3."

A small chorus of "awww"s came from where The Sullivans and her sisters sat.

"Listen, I know a lot of you want to be with Enterprise, but there's a war to win out there," South Dakota said, "Admiral, you have the conn."

After South Dakota sat back down, Admiral Dougherty finished the briefing with two sentences, "All ships assigned to search parties are ordered to the mess hall to stock up before leaving. You all ship out in an hour. Dismissed."

As the assembled shipgirls filed out, South Dakota looked at Blue as she talked with her squadron, and, for some reason, her whole body filled with dread.


	23. Casualty

A few days had passed since the two search forces had left San Diego and there hadn't been an enemy ship in sight since the last attack. It almost seemed like they had given up and gone home if not for the occasional corpse floating on the surface. Despite this, the two forces continued searching and Enterprise's group was getting a little antsy.

"Come on Blue, just one more game," Turner pleaded.

Blue turned and stared at the younger Gleaves class destroyer, "No, Turner. You're supposed to be with Butler and Jarvis on sub duty."

"It's only one more game. Jarvis has sub duty covered," Turner said.

At this moment, Enterprise spoke up, "Turner."

"Yes Ma'am?", Turner asked.

"Blue here," Enterprise said, ruffling Blue's light blue hair, "Is your commanding officer. She says go back to your post, you do it."

"Yes, Ma'am!", Turner said and the young destroyer sped off.

Enterprise chuckled, "Destroyers, no matter how old they get, they still act like kids."

Before anyone could respond, the radio crackled. Heavy, rasping breath filled the airwaves as a dense fog suddenly appeared. The air cooled rapidly to where it was barely above freezing. Finally, words started to come over the channel, garbled by static. Enterprise grabbed her bow and readied an arrow. The fog thickened until only dark outlines were visible beyond the old carrier and Blue. Suddenly, the radio went dead and silence befell the small task force. Then, one of the larger shadows, New Jersey, Enterprise thought, vanished. Then the other massive shadow disappeared as well.

"Arm yourselves!", Enterprise yelled before Phoenix was taken out.

"Phoenix!", Blue cried and she rushed towards the spot where the scrappy little Brooklyn had been.

"Blue don't!", Enterprise yelled as Blue was yanked from sight with a scream.

The crack from a five inch gun being fired sounded from the fog followed by the cracking of bones and the squelching of flesh. Suddenly, Blue reappeared, her back facing Enterprise.

"Blue are you alright?", she asked.

What sounded like a small machine was heard and then Blue shuddered if as hit in the shoulder. The small destroyer spasmed for a second and then slumped forward as two cables burst from her right shoulder and punctured into the funnel that was a part of her rigging. The skin around the area where the cables came out started to pale and dark lines started to criss-cross underneath the flesh. Blue jerked back upright and ghastly black smoke started to pour out of her funnel. Her previously light blue hair had begun to darken to a pitch black. Blue turned to face Enterprise and the carrier gasped. Shoved through Blue's chest was something that looked like an anchor, its two prongs stabbing into the destroyers body, one in the shoulder and the other in the abdomen. All around where the anchor had entered her body was grey with barely visible dark lines underneath snaking out from the thing. The once young, innocent face glared with a snarl and glowing green eyes as she leveled her torpedo tubes at Enterprise.

"Blue? What's going on?", Enterprise asked, "What's gotten into you?"

Blue just replied with a growl and the splash of her torpedoes hitting the water.


	24. Bounty

Another wave of dive bombers roared off Enterprise's deck as she fought to keep the rabid destroyer at bay. Just a few seconds later, the bombers fell to the ocean in pieces. Enterprise looked around, hoping for some help. Just then, Blue leaped at the carrier, howling like some savage animal. Enterprise closed her eyes and swung the flight deck attached to her left arm.

*Smack*

Blue went flying as Enterprise's deck made contact. As the rabid destroyer impacted the water, Enterprise could see a large dark shadow standing behind her.

"Hey Wash! Mind giving me a hand here?", Enterprise called.

The dark figure didn't move.

"Hey, you listening? I need help!", she yelled again.

Blue once again leapt at Enterprise, this time brandishing her torpedo tubes. Just before Blue reached her, something streaked in and exploded, sending both Blue and Enterprise flying. As Enterprise got back on her feet, she saw the shadowy figure vanish, along with the fog. All around her, she could see her screen floating on the water, unconscious. With a groan, Blue stood up once more and ran towards Enterprise, screaming.

"Watch out!", a voice said as an arrow streaked in and exploded in front of the tiny destroyer, finally putting her down.

Enterprise turned and saw the other task force steaming up along with two black haired destroyers and another blonde battleship. The battleship raised her bow with a flame red arrow notched in its string.

"Hold your fire!", Enterprise called, "It's me, Enterprise!"

The woman lowered her bow and slung it over her shoulder.

"Couldn't be sure," she said, "Was just'a precaution. SoDak, here, was worried when her group lost contact. We ran into them as they were rushing to help you."

The smaller blonde stood back up from where she was examining the prone form of Washington.

"That reminds me, exactly who are you? Never exactly got the chance to ask," she said.

One of the two black haired destroyers, crouched down beside Blue, interrupted, "Hey Boss, you better take a look at this."

"Just a second, Finch," Renegade said, "My name's Renegade, hull number BB-50. My two destroyers are R. Brady Finch DD-926 and McBain DD-891. I'll give you a debrief later. Right now, we have more important things to attend to, like our little friend here."

Renegade walked over to Finch and exchanged a few words. Then the Gearing rejoined McBain who was helping the unconscious screen as they came around.

"Interesting," the battleship said, "I never knew that this was possible"

Enterprise was curious.

"Never knew what was possible?", she asked.

"What's happened to our friend here," Renegade replied, "I never knew that it was possible to infect a non-Fleet ship."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?", New Jersey asked, holding her head.

Renegade looked around at the two task forces before letting out a big sigh.

"I've seen this once before," Renegade said, bending down to examine Blue, "In May of 1946, a program in Tex's computer core designed to return the ship automatically to our naval base was corrupted. Her system's went into automatic mode, isolating every part of the ship. Thirty-two crewmen died when that happened, crushed by doors slamming shut in less than a second, then her intruder containment program engaged. She flooded her engine rooms, killing half of the crew that keeps her heart beating with the other half, in the boiler rooms,having to listen to their mates pounding on the metal bulkheads as they drown. After that, the corrupted program spread through the rest of the failsafe systems like a virus. The Admiral barely got a message out to tell the nearest ships to shut down their cores before communications went silent. What happened next is why the First Fleet only has a hundred and fifty ships left. We _were_ a force three-hundred strong, but that's a distant memory now. The battleships and their escorts managed to take down their cores before it happened, but the cruiser divisions and destroyer squadrons were not so lucky. The corrupted program was transmitted to the fleet. The ensuing carnage destroyed four whole classes of cruisers, three destroyer squadrons, and all of our escort carriers. The only ones who caught this virus that survived were the cruisers of the Imperial class. Those ships were deactivated soon after and they sit in reserve to this day. All the damaged ships who didn't catch the virus were repaired and they returned to service, including myself. Took a full broadside from Texas at close range, ripped eighteen holes straight through my armor belt and out the other side."

Renegade lifted up a sleeve showing 5 gruesome scars on her upper left arm and shoulder. Everyone winced at the sight.

"Texas is dangerous, even on our side. There's no way to end this humanely. Next time I encounter her, Tex will have a heavy price to pay," Renegade stood up and her bow snapped back into her hand, "death."


	25. Execution

Date: 22 Feb, 2017  
Location: off the coast of Hawaii, Pacific Ocean  
Time: 12:00 Local Time

Blue groaned and shifted on the makeshift raft the task groups had created. Thanks to some quick action by Renegade, the little destroyer was starting to fight the infestation that had quickly taken over her body. Enterprise looked back at her, worried. She came alongside the white clad woman sailing alone, her bow resting limply in her hand.

"Hey," she said, making Renegade jump.

"Please don't do that again," the Tillman replied, "How's she doing by the way?"

"Blue?," Enterprise asked, "It looks like she's doing fine. I just thought we could talk for a moment."

"Sure, what do you wan'a talk about?"

Enterprise let out a long sigh, "How long?"

Renegade raised an eyebrow.

"How long were you there? In the war, I mean. There's nothing, I mean, nothing about you, this ship we're chasing, or this mythical First Fleet. Just seems odd to me that there is an entire fleet out there that no one has ever heard about, much less seen," she burtled out.

"E. Can I call you E?", Renegade asked, "To answer your question, since the beginning. Texas herself was at Pearl just hours after the attack on Pearl. She saw the carnage, the destruction, including Ari's forward tripod collapsing onto her own crewmen. After she returned, we went to war. We were the only fully capable combat force in the Pacific, and we took a heavy beating which only ended when I exploded in early '42." Renegade paused,"Curious sensation, blowing up. One moment, you feel intense pain as your keel and hull buckle. The next, nothin'. 'T's like gettin' a piece removed during a refit without the long, painful burn at where it was cut off."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Enterprise said solemnly.

"Don't worry about it," Renegade said, "I was brought back later in the year in this hull. To be honest, I actually have to thank the Japs who slammed the final weapons into my old hull. As much as I love my sister ships of my old class, this.." Renegade gestured to her whole body. "..this Tillman class hull fits me much better." Just then, three fighters dove out of the clouds, jets screaming. Bullets struck the water as the planes pulled through their strafing run. "Everyone, break!", Dakota yelled as she and Jersey let go of the raft holding Blue.

"Finch! McBain!", Renegade roared.

The two destroyers were already at the raft making sure she was safe.

"All clear boss!", Finch said.

"Get her to Pearl! Last thing we need is her waking up in the middle of the task force!", Renegade ordered.

The two destroyers kicked up streams of water as they floored it towards Oahu, the bullet-ridden raft in tow. Renegade looked up at the jets as they started to come around for another pass. Suddenly, three more fighters roared overhead, their radial engines screaming like banshees, but these fighters looked wrong. They were black and covered in rust, seaweed, and dirt, like they had spent several years sitting at the bottom of the ocean. Their gull wings had huge holes in them, exposing spars and cables leading to the tattered flaps still left in position. The black smokes trailing from their exhausts didn't help the image either. Almost at the same time, all the battleships opened up with their flak batteries, determined to down the twisted Corsair mockeries. The jets screamed in and the Abyssal planes tore them to shreds. Renegade's eyes widened.

"Everyone, we need to move, now!"

"Who the fuck put you in charge?", Jersey asked.

"The same people that gave me enough Mark 7s to outgun almost three-fourths of your class! Now move your ass before we all get killed!"

Just then, a massive fog bank appeared over the horizon, and it was getting closer. Renegade notched an arrow, this time a dull grey one with a yellow band around the shaft. Drawing her bow back to full, she quietly whispered something before releasing the arrow with a bang. As the small fleet sailed away as fast as their engines could carry them, the arrow made contact with something in the fog bank. There was a flash, and then a blue ball of plasma roared into existence for a split second before vanishing, taking the fog with it. Everyone stopped and stared at the phenomenon, their mouths hanging open. Most of the fleet looked at Renegade in awe, but the old Tillman just sailed by wordlessly.

*Author's Note*  
Hey all, I apologize for the long pause between chapters, Real Life got in the way for awhile. Anyways, let me know what you guys think of this chapter and any comments or questions are welcome as always. Until next time!


	26. Phoenix Rebirth

**BEEP…. BEEP…. BEEP….**

Eyes blinked open to a blinding white room filled with stainless steel appliances and a rusted metal pole sticking out from a light blue blanket. A white hand with pitch black viens came into view.

"Wha.. What happened?", a voice rasped.

The hand grabbed the pole and pain flashed through her body, filling the view with white. A cry of pain, barely audible, squeaked out of tortured lungs. A door opened and two blonde women came into view. The one with the bright, golden hair bent down, her reddish brown eyes filled with concern.

"Blue, are you alright?", she asked.

Blue's mind struggled to eak out a reply, "I… I don't know."

The other blonde folded her arms, "You've been through alot, little one. Just keep fighting and you'll get better."

Turning to the first woman, the second said, "I'm honestly surprised at her, E. She shouldn't be able to talk or recognize us after the virus has run its course."

E, no… Enterprise, just looked at her.

"I can't believe you just said that," the carrier growled, "Are you that cold hearted to write Blue off like she was just an irreparable hulk?"

The woman glanced at Blue with her pale green eyes, before hardening her gaze at Enterprise.

"My apologies for the detachment, but three days ago, I had to fire upon what was once my friend. The fact that we even still have Blue here is a miracle. Don't forget, you lost a cruiser too," she spouted.

Enterprise glared at her, "I have not, at least not yet."

Just then, sirens and alarms started to go off throughout the base. At the same time, a surge of pain shot through Blue's body, forcing a shriek from her mouth.

"Blue!", Enterprise shouted.

"E, go, I'll take care of Blue," the woman said, "I'm restricted to base anyways."

Enterprise gave her a look.

"I'll explain later. Go, your friends need you," she said.

Enterprise nodded and sprinted out the door. The woman came closer to Blue.

"Blue, my name's Renegade," the woman said kindly, "Let's get this thing out of your chest."

As Enterprise reached the shipgirl docks, Battleships New Jersey and South Dakota roared out with Blue's gaggle of destroyers in tow. Quickly running through the prelaunch checklist she always performed, thoughts about recent events swam through her mind. With the rumble of dozens of aircraft engines ready to take off, Enterprise sped out of Pearl Harbor with oily smoke trailing behind.

"Dakota, Jersey, what do we have?", she radioed

"Four contacts heading towards us, fast," Dakota said, "Jersey confirms, they're Abyssals."

With a roar, the first few fighters lept from Enterprise's flight deck and screamed towards the approaching enemy. Now with her own eyes in position, the old veteran could see what she was up against. What she saw made her blood run cold. Three Abyssal destroyers, looking like whales down to the blowholes on their heads, surrounded a monsterous sight. A Brooklyn class cruiser sailed, pitch black smoke oozing from its funnels. Its camouflage had almost fully peeled away, revealing a rusted, sealife-infested black hull, pitted and dented with use. Humanoid teeth had burst out of the metal hull along the waterline at the bow, and red flames boiled out of the anchor hawsepipes and glowing gun barrels. Enterprise knew who she was. Phoenix, the only ship unaccounted for. Her hull number glowed on that… that thing that had replaced her. With a beastly roar, all four ships let loose with their anti aircraft cannon, ghostly flak bursting all around Enterprise's planes. Cursing, she pulled her planes back, and readied her strike force, just as the battleships' opening shots fell on target. Explosions rocked the small force, but did little damage as two destroyers and Phoenix sailed out of the acrid smoke unharmed.

"Shit!", Jersey's voice filtered out of the static, "We didn't even fucking stop them!"

"We'll just have to stall them until the rest of us get get here," South Dakota replied calmly.

"The rest of us? Are you shitting me? There is no 'rest of us'. We're all that there is!"

Enterprise sighed and turned down her radio set so she could focus on directing her deadly payload to its target. Until, there was no payload, no strike planes on their way to rain hell down on that cruiser wearing the face of her friend. A rattling moan saw the carrier look up into the sky, at a lone wrecked Corsair slowly banking back towards the Abyssal ships. On the radio, both battleships grunted in pain as they took hits. Quickly turning back to her fighters circling Phoenix and her escorts, the carrier scanned the horizon from the cockpit, until a fogbank came into view. And it was closing fast.

Through the growing static, Enterprise yelled, "Everyone, back to Pearl! Fast!"

"Are you shitting me, E? We retreat, we lose Phoenix forever!", Jersey replied, somewhat annoyed.

"Jersey, retreat or die. It's up to you. SoDak, let's roll."

"Copy E, returning to base."

With a groan of pain and a wet squelch, the anchor imbedded in Blue's chest jerked free. Instantly, the destroyer's color improved. Renegade slumped back into a chair, the infernal metal dropping to the floor. As doctors and nurses rushed into the room, the battleship drifted off into a white nothingness. She looked around at the fog surrounding her, then a cackle echoed through the space.

"Tex," She said, eyes narrowing.

With a clank of metal, her grey eyes snapped back open and the Tillman rushed out of the hospital with all the subtlety of a hurricane.

Outside, Enterprise, Jersey, Dakota and the destroyers sailed into the harbor, Phoenix and the fog bank quickly closing behind. As the fog boiled over the harbor entrance, the Brooklyn and her escorts vanished. The three capital ships slid to a stop close to the battleship Missouri, still asleep, even in a war begging for her return. The air grew cold as ice started to creep up the grey steel behind the kanmusu. The sound of grinding metal and tearing flesh echoed over the residents of Battleship Row and something, or someone, met its end. Then, Silence. All that was heard was the flag on the museum limply flapping in the breeze. The sensation rolled over the island as the two battleships swept the fog bank for any movement. Enterprise readied a squadron of Devastators, pulling back her bowstring, ready to launch at a moment's notice. The trio waited for what seemed like ages until…. Movement.

A terrified Abyssal, an I-class by the looks of it, burst out of the fog.

 _ **"GET BACK HERE, I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!"**_ , a voice growled.

Suddenly, an spike on a chain flew out of nowhere. It slammed into the Abyssal, finally popping out of its flaming eye. With a snap, arms swung into position, turning the spike into an anchor smeared with neon-blue blood. The I-class screeched in pain as the chain pulled taught. Then with a clink, the chain was yanked backwards, dragging the destroyer back into the smoke with its tiny little flippers flailing. The sound of metal grinding and being torn apart followed soon after, along with a shriek which died as the Abyssal was torn apart. A piece of armor floated out of the fog, splattered with blue blood. After a few moments, the piece slowly sank leaving a blue stain on the surface.

Cackling wafted out of the mist, _**"Now that one distraction's out of my way, you're next."**_


End file.
